


Feeding Strays

by RussianWitch



Category: Riddick (2013), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Conversations, Gen, M/M, Rare Pairings, other stuffing and mounting may follow if I get the hang of it, so this started to develop something of a plot, stuffing and mounting of plotbunnies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dahl putting bad ideas in her boss' head.<br/>Riddick turns up like a bed penny.<br/>In the information age it isn't possible to make anything disappear never mind a planet and the past is calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Casey_Wolfe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/pseuds/Casey_Wolfe). Log in to view. 



> Not beta'd  
> Like the tags say: a couple of plot bunnies came burrowing up that had to be exterminated.  
> Read a fic about the pairing and trying it on for size :P

"You—never did have any kind of pets running around did you Boss?" Dahl asks with a smirk that makes  Rafe  wonder why he keeps her around. 

"Never settled properly and you can't keep animals on a skiff." He grumbles hoping to put her off  whatever line of conversation she's set her mind too.

"We didn’t either not exactly, but—the planet my daddy was station on it had some kind of feral cat things." She happily ignores his mood and keeps on talking, in fact settling in and getting comfortable in the co-pilot chair. "The thing about them was, daddy always said not to feed them. Everyone in fact said not to feed them,  cause it was the damnd est thing: feed m once and the damn cats thought they owned you."  Rafe  tries to ignore her focusing on laying in the course and double checking it so that they don't end up strand ed in the middle of nowhere, but he can still  feel  her grinning beside him. Through the cockpit window he can also see a faint outline of the 'feral cat' in question hovering just behind the partition with the rest of the main cabin. Dahl, deliberately oblivious just keeps on talking. "Nasty things they were, scratch your eyes out just because they were in a mood—" Dahl muses with a bit too much relish.

"Dahl—" He tries to stop her suddenly embarrassed with silver eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. She of course ignores him as she usually does when not working.

"Drove everyone crazy the beasties did: destructive, ornery, moody shits—but once in a while, they'd come to you and cuddle up, let you rub their bellies purring up a storm and you kind of forgot why you hated them in the first place." He's going to fire her: from an airlock into the closest black hole, that is if he doesn't sink through the floor first.

Miraculously Riddick keeps quiet for once  just listens to Dahl taking the piss,  Rafe  is half curious what the con things about Dahl's insinuations . The con doesn't fit the profile  Rafe  has build of him over the years, there is a conscience there underdeveloped and definitely underused but  there  tempering the instinct to survive. A predator:  one of Dahl's 'feral cats', like Dahl herself. If he hadn't gotten his hands on Dahl all those years ago,  Rafe  can see where she would have ended up looking at Riddick.

"Dahl!"

They've stopped strapping him down to keep the idiot from moving around while his wounds heals, and since then  Rafe  has come across Riddick and Dahl several times in the vehicle holds and the armory: heads together looking up faintly guilty when he comes across them.  Rafe  hasn't had this kind of feeling of foreboding since Billy was  a teenager, and now he feel like he has two of those  on his hands. He's pretty sure Dahl isn't going to leave him hanging: she has her contract and she likes working for him. Riddick can't offer her the security  Rafe  can no matter how much the two of them are bonding. Not that he'd let them out of his sight either way, he likes the universe just as it is and not in pie ces. 

Three  weeks of waiting in orbit for the damn rains  to stop, and it looks like they'll be waiting for months. The other skiff is still there mostly intact and ready for use, but  Rafe  is fed up with all of them being cooped up and waiting. Easier to go towards civilization, somewhere where Riddick won't get recognized at first glance where  Rafe  can set him loose...

"Just saying Boss, might get you out of your sour mood." Dahl twists in the chair looking towards the back.  "Finally scratch that it of yours." She gets a growl in reply and sprawls out in her chair looking very pleased with herself.

"Do you have to bait him? Or me for that matter? Go train Luna if you're that bored!" He finally snaps at her having run out of excuses to stare at the consoles and fighting the images of the con sprawled on his bunk belly up. 

"Luna is hiding in his bunk, kid can't deal with all the—tension." Dahl tells him with relish propping her feet on the console and pulling out a knife to clean her fingernails.

"Then go get him out of there! It's good practice in keeping his cool." He want her to get the hell out so that he can stew in peace. She raises her eyebrow at him mouth already open to argue when  Rafe  overrides him.

"Go!" He snaps and Dahl finally gets up sauntering out with her nose in the air radiating offence.

He still isn't happy with setting Riddick loose on the unsuspecting population of some base or another. He hadn't even been happy with promising the other skiff to the con, but to guarantee his people's survival he'd been willing to do that chancing that he can catch up to the  Furyan  before he adds any more to his rap sheet. 

Almost ten years of hunting the man down fully expecting to enact justice...only to be left empty handed wondering what he did wrong for his son to meet his end like one of the cons they've spend their lives hunting. He'd thought he raised Billy better than that, figured his son died protecting civilians not trying to feed one of them to the monsters to safe his own life. His son the junky, still something  Rafe  can't wrap his mind around even after weeks of chewing on the information.

"Space does strange things to people sometimes: too much time out in the black all by your lonesome and people say you come back changed."  Rafe  doesn't jump, he has better control than that and this isn't the first time Riddick decided to materialize behind his back without warning. "John s—he forgot why he did what he did."

"That supposed to be an excuse?" Dahl wasn't wrong about his sour mood, and having Riddick of all people making excuses doesn't make it any better.

"Don't make excuses." Riddick drops in the chair Dahl has vacated putting his boots on one of the more delicate navigational pan els. In the brightly lit cockpit he's wearing the goggles again looking too damn relaxed for a con on a ship full of law enforcers. "Johns  was different occasionally after disappearing for a couple of months, figure now he was giving you a hand . Stopped happening after a while that's when he turned into a bastard." 

"Speak about my son that way again and I will toss you out of the airlock."  Rafe  never was one to hide from the truth, but with his son ten years in the grave he can afford not to have to hear it more than once.

"Yeah?" Considering Riddick's reaction to threats,  Rafe  wonders how the man will react to a compliment. He kicks Riddick's feet of the panel and gets a pleased grin in return.

"Feed off the dash." He growls trying to find something to busy himself with without leaving the cockpit.

"Dahl does it." The con pouts and  Rafe  wonders what he's done to deserve that in his life.

"Dahl earned the privilege." He signs wondering what the hell Riddick wants, except entertainment. "You shouldn't even be in here." 

"What?  Ya  scared I'll steal this tub? Don't worry not my style."  Rafe  can see him considering putting his feet right back on the damn panel, then shifting around and leaving his feet on the floor. He can't forget that Riddick is a qualified pilot who won't have any problem changing their course when they aren't looking.  Rafe  surprises himself with the realization that he isn't worried about being killed in his sleep.

"Won't keep you from knocking this ship off course." The grin he receives in reply is blinding, Riddick leans in pulling the goggles up showing his strange eyes.

"Now why would I do that?"  Ra fe  reminds himself that no matter how his body reacts to the man's purr, encouraging a convict is a bad idea. Dahl might have gone space happy and bonded but  Rafe  is the one responsible: he doesn't have the lux ury  of playing with the passenger.

"Riddick—" He tries, but before he can get anything out Riddick is there practically in his lap pressing him back into the chair.

"Not looking for a Daddy, Johns. I f that's what you're thinking— " The too casual tone holds a warning, but  Rafe  has already realized that what comes out of Riddick's mouth isn't necessarily what he means. He grabs the killer's wrist pushing against the strength pinning him down. They both look down at their hands, the connection of skin on skin without the excuse of a fight or medical emergency is new and jarring.

"Don't be vile." He growls reminded yet again of whom he's talking to. He wonders if his son has been in a similar position a time or two. Some of the stories he'd heard floating around then, the two of them breaking each other out of slams for whatever reasons. "If this is your way of getting a matching set—" He's amused by the expression on Riddick's face as he pulls back in disgust.

"Isn't like that. Not like Dahl is putting out and something tells me you'd cut my balls off if I tries anything with the kid—" Just the thought of Riddick interfe ring  with Luna has  Rafe  wrapping his hand around the con's throat squeezing tight while pushing him back until he's towering over the killer.

"Don't you—" He's never heard even a ghost of a rumor regarding rape where Riddick is concerned, but he's brought in too many convicts to let such a comment pas. 

"Wasn't  gonna , just told  ya ." Riddick enunciates  slowly, then arches into  Rafe's  grasp cutting off his own breath and kicking  Rafe's  legs from under him to follow him down. They end up the deck between the pilot chairs with Riddick in his lap pinning his arms to the floor.

"Get off me, now!"  Rafe  barks but for once it doesn't work, mulishly the convict ignores him leaning down to sniff at his throat instead. 

" Ya  don't smell like  ya  want that."  Rafe  counts the bolts in the ceiling panels ignoring the heat coming off Riddick and praying that Dahl comes to bother him again. "And Dahl isn't coming. She's keeping the kid occupied. She's under the impression that you haven't gotten any in too long, says it makes you cranky." He's going to space the girl: not even give her the chance to apologize just toss her out of the airlock and not look back...just as soon as he manages to get up.

"I can still take you to the nearest slam." He hopes that he sounds as calm as he isn't feeling. Damning Dahl and her proclivity for disregarding everyone's personal boundaries is pointless,  Rafe  misses the time he was still married when no one pulled this kind of shit on him. She's seen him chatting up a pretty boy once on leave...

" Nach ,  ya  gave me your word that  ya gonna  set me loose, can't go back on  ya  word now." The con happily ignores the threat making himself comfortable in  Rafe's  lap. "Not like  ya're  getting a better offer any time soon." Stubble scrapes across stubble sending a shiver down  Rafe's  spine, Dahl isn't that far off in her assessment of the situation but that doesn't mean he should be dealing with a convict in his lap.

"Get the hell off me! I'm too damn old to fuck on the floor, and the autopilot isn't engaged." He struggles against Riddick's hold and is licked sloppily across lips and cheek for his trouble before getting released.

"Knew  ya'd  see it my way eventually." Riddick purrs while helping him to his feet, he lets  Rafe  pass to take the pilot chair again to check if their tussle hasn't thrown off any of the settings. Riddick hovers over him as  Rafe  does the check and sets the autopilot watching intently, barely waiting for him to flip the final switch before reaching for  Rafe  again. Sharp teeth scrape across the back of his neck, just hard enough to make  Rafe  twitch in his pants in anticipation. 

"Come on Boss, let's go have some fun." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having some kind of weird kerning problem un copying so there might be some wonkey parts I missed

 

"Boss!"  Someone squeals.

" Boooooss !"  Whoever is calling him chokes trying to smother a fit of the giggles and annoyingly  Rafe can't tell if it's Dahl or Luna. He hides behind his tablet scrolling through the bounty listing because he's a busy man and they need to start hunting again. The skiff doesn't pay for itself an neither do their weapons.

Luna bursts onto the bridge first almost tripping over his own two feet, how the kid can manage to be so steady with a gun in his hands Rafe will never know.

"Boss! You have to come see!" He yelps ignoring Rafe's attempt to look like he isn't using the tablet as an excuse to brood. Because Rafe isn't brooding: he doesn't have one blessed thing to brood about any longer.The scabbed over scratch right above his heart itches reminding him that he's a dirty liar.

"He's right Boss you have got to come see!" Dahl sticks her head out of the corridor but stays out of range otherwise. "If you don't t he crowd is bound to start a body count out of sheer stupidity." Glancing out through the windshield Rafa sees a bit of it. People hanging around a bit too casually under the wings of the neighboring  skiff. Cursing under his breath he throws the tablet down and reaches for his sidearm. 

"What the hell did you do?" His second in command shrugs while Luna cringes.

"Wasn't us." She grins at him backing out of his way and once he ducks out of the hatch the giggling makes sense.

There is a man staked out just past the ramp who's face Rafe recognizes  having considered picking up the bounty. The man moans, slurs curses and demands that someone set him loose, only everyone stays out of range.

"There is a note." Dahl helpfully points out, "Apparently he fetches." She adds cryptically with visible relish ignoring Rafe  when he glares. There is indeed a note pinned to the convict's chest warning everyone that if they aren't Boss Johns they better not touch unless they want to lose an appendage. Pulling his gun just in case, Rafe glares at the bystanders who are watching with avid interest and jumps off the ramp to approach.

There are no wires as far as he can see, no indication that there might be booby-traps of any kind,   nothing that could be perceived as a threat except for the blades driven deep into the dirt to which the convict is bound. He snags the note off the bound man's chest revealing the number pad of a digital lock and a hint of wires that  leading to the man's neck  hidden by his clothing  where a nice garland of explosives has been  attacked under the dirty collar . As booby-traps go it's certainly effective: no contractor is going to pay out on a dead man without seeing  the face .

The penmanship is horrendous both on the outside and the inside of the note, Rafe has to wonder how often the writer has seen the need to practice it over the years. The threat on the outside is graphic and to the point, the content within is  brief.

" **Thinking of you**."

Nothing else, but Rafe knows  whom this 'present' is from.

" Aren't you lucky." Dahl cranes at the note over his shoulder until he elbows her away. At least Luna has the sense to keep his mouth shut. Giving Riddick a lift seems had been useful for something more than the  assault on the remains of Rafe's sanity, he can see the kid becoming good with a bit more experience.

"This—did anyone see?" The last thing he needs is rumors  to start that he's being helped by a convict  he should  have brought in. Rafe has spend years wondering how his son had been able to stand the stories about him and Riddick that did the rounds among the slams and the mercenary guild members. Some slams had even refused to accept bounties from  Billy  just on the off chance that he was trying to bilk them by helping out the convicts later on. With Dahl and Luna to think about, Rafe can't afford the luxury of not caring what the guild or the slams think about him and his operation...A sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach says that Riddick won't care about his concerns, not as long as he gets what he's after. 

_ Right before they arrive  at a port from wh ich  Riddick  will  with some effort  be able  find further transport without anyone noticing how  he'd appeared there,  Rafe wakes  with the convict straddling him the cold blade of a knife teasing across his chest. Only half awake he wonders  if this means  that Riddick finally decided not to bother with leaving witnesses to his survival . Despite  his position  all of  Rafe's  instincts demanded that he pull the man down to possibly demand a blow job  instead of kicking him away and going for his gun which is the sane reaction. They watch each other for long moments the knife tracing patters on Rafe's chest he doesn't recognize  waiting for the other to make the first move.  _

_ The cut across his chest when it comes, is a surprise: deep enough for blood to well at once, but not deep enough to do any  actual  damage . Riddick licks  Rafe's  blood off the blade, then leans down to push his tongue into the cut licking at it until the bleeding stops. All the while  Rafe  lies motionless under him shocked and still disproportionately aroused.  _

_ Licking his lips Riddick leans down  to mouth  across  Rafe's  throat up to his ear. "Got your scent now  merc." He should be concerned by the implications, not get the urge to  open  his legs for a fucking. Not that Riddick seems to care what Rafe wants:  tossing the knife aside the con pins him down exploring  Rafe's  body with his mouth. _

_ Teeth scrape down  Rafe's  torso  catching on scars and ridges of muscle. Lips and tongue tease and taunt as Riddick keeps him pinned to the bunk enjoying himself. All  Rafe  can do is lie back and curse . Hi s dick doesn't mind the indignity any ,  jumping and leaking with every lick and bite. The damn conv ict 's mouth is hot and wet closing around  Rafe's  dick. He digs his nails into the bedding looking away from the laughing eyes of his assailant.  _

_ Somehow he manages to read the opaque eyes, he has to strain not to  strangle the man who's teeth are damn close to his dick  just for being an ass. Refusing to take the bait he stares up at the ceiling fighting to keep from moaning as his orgasm is sucked out of him. Riddick's hands leave bruises on  Rafe's  hips and thighs marking him up for the coming days if not weeks.  He  has tried to return the favor but leaving marks on Riddick's skin is  almost impossible. Still  Rafe  has  worked diligently  to leave some trace of himself on the man's skin. _

_ He doesn't bother to try and fuck up in to the hot mouth sucking him  raw , that would only give Riddick what he wants and Rafe can't have that. Instead he hooks a leg  across  Riddick's shoulder pulling him closer . Riddick growls around him and  Rafe finally let's a moan escape cursing when he feels the conv ict  smile around his flesh.  _

_ Fed up with being taunted, he  sits up clamping a hand onto the back of the younger man's neck. He looks down into silver eyes holding them as he pries Riddick off his dick.  Rafe  drags him  up annoyed that the  man  isn't even short of breath. He tightens his grip pushing  a  thumb hard against the soft spot right at the base of Riddick's skull. The insolent creature has the gall to lean into the dangerous touch grinding his dick into  Rafe's  thigh. _

_ Rafe  desperately wants to te l l the bastard to 'fuck off' but it would only be taken as an encouragement. Instead he forces Riddick's head down until he can feel the man's breath against his pubes ._

_Tightening his grip once more, he relaxes into the pleasure. _

"Dahl! How long has this been here?" He questions prodding the prisoner's leg with his boot. By the look of the crowd it had been a while, probably just long enough for talk to get started.

"Don't know, wasn't there when I came back—earlier." He snorts at the vagueness  wondering how drunk she'd been after a full night of  bar crawling  and how she can be so coherent now. 

"Let's get him inside, we'll sort the rest out after." He allows himself the pleasure of  rubbing his hands across  his face  before glaring the crowd gathered on the edges of their landing  pad  into backing away . Sure that no one will try to interfere,  Rafe  bends down to get a proper look at the lock. Cypher locks are tricky, the explosives are held by a simple one with a ten digit code,  one  Rafe  doesn't know.

As much as he knows about Riddick , Rafe  can't claim to understand how the convict's mind works. Maybe  that will come  on longer association  one he  firmly tells himself he has no use for,  but now  he might have to gamble . He tries not to scratch his head  thinking of what they have in common. Riddick didn't care about the designation of the planet Rafe had found him on, didn't seem to care about the name of the planet he disembarked on or even how high the bounty on his head is.

Rafe  doubts that the convict  remembers  how much he's actually worth on a daily basis. The only thing they have in common is one out of the way planet where  Rafe's  son died a decade ago. The designation of the planet is etched into his mind has been since he got the message.

The tied up man groans and demands to be given water .  Rafe  curses kneeling down to poke at the keys viciously. Everyone around him holds their breath waiting if he's going to blow himself and the victim sky high, even Dahl looks hesitant for a moment. The lock beeps and squeaks but nothing explodes much to  Rafe's  relief. He stands up keeping his gun on the man who doesn't bother sitting up but busies himself with massaging blood back into his wrists. 

Of course the convict wouldn't be a convict if he was smarter, so all  Rafe  ends up kicking him in the head before Dahl comes to help put on restraints. They wrestle their prisoner into the back to strap him to the chair sending Luna to retrieve the tablet. 

The payout on the bounty is...impressive. The universe would be a better place if the con didn't reach the slam that wants him alive, only that isn't the way the system is supposed to work. He wanders out to where the knives are still stuck in the ground, he has to put his back into pulling them out again wondering if Riddick is somewhere close by watching him struggle. The knives are as much a gift as the convict,  Rafe  wonders where they've been stolen from. He shoves them into the empty slots on his vest and calculates how long it will take to get a liftoff time if he radios in now. 

The slam he needs to visit, it's only a couple of days away: not even far enough to put anyone into cryo . He can be back within a week, or Dahl can be...he doesn't feel like hunting all of a sudden after having had his prey delivered to his doorstep. It's almost enough for him to resent Riddick for spoiling his fun. 

"Dahl!" He bellows stomping off to his bunk. She appears just as he's tossing random things into his duffle.

"You called boss?" Funny that as much as he trust her, he's never send Dahl off by herself. 

"Deliver my 'present' to the slam that's paying." Stripping off the bed he finds another knife, one of Riddick's this time some kind of crude sharpened bone: he shoves that into the duffle as well. 

"And where are you going to be?" She leans against the wall across the hall picking at a hangnail and trying to look casual.

"I'm going home, need to visit the graves—write down—" He doesn't have to finish for her to understand, she purses her lips and nods.  Rafe  would put the visit off if he had half an excuse, but Riddick has just taken it away. 

"Any other reason?" Dahl doesn't meet his eyes when she asks, but he knows what the both of them are thinking.

"Nope, he's long since gone can't be too comfortable with all the mercs around." She nods and goes to tell Luna the good news of their road trip. He takes one of their new bikes counting that the kids won't need it.

Outside of the space port heavy industry swallows up the open ground, tall buildings rising along both sides of the road. In some ways he feels better with all of the metal and stone around him. They tell  Rafe  that the planet has been conquered  by man, that there aren't any surprises left.

He hasn't forgotten where his apartment is, but it's a close thing. The key card still works despite looking worn and the air is stale enough that  Rafe  is sure that no one has been inside for a long, long time. The lights flicker before regaining their strength as  Rafe  wanders down the hall into the living room deliberately ignoring the pictures of lost family members on the walls.

The boots hanging off the couch are a surprise, if not totally unexpected. Circling,  Rafe  admires the convict sprawled on his furniture. 

"Took  ya  long enough Johns, I was getting bored!" 


	3. Chapter 3

He should have hit the alarm as soon as he found the killer on his couch, not tossed his duffle at the smug bastard's head and slunk off to the shower. Of course Riddick took it as welcome and when Rafe finally braves his living quarters again the killer is poking around the cupboards exploring the space.

Riddick is frowning down at a picture of Billy laughing and showing off his first shotgun, Rafe's first impulse is to grab for the picture and take it away. Riddick might not have had a direct hand in Billy's death, but by his own admission he hadn't exactly made an effort to keep it from happening either. Rafe bites back the urge, shoving his hands behind his back to keep from doing something rash.

"He changed, wasn't the kid ya raised." Riddick says like the words will become easier to accept if Rafe hears them often enough. He reminds himself that taking on Riddick alone has proven fatal for everyone who tried.

"That would be easier to take if I could have seen for myself." He sighs eventually poking at the picture. "I shouldn't have let him run off so soon." Riddick doesn't comment, just puts the picture back where he found it and leans back against the shelves. Rafe feels like a bug under a microscope the black goggles hiding Riddick's eyes giving nothing away.

"That why ya keep Dahl on a leash?" Rafe wonders where the perceptiveness managed to develop. Between the gutters and the slams, Riddick is an anomaly that shouldn't exist to make Rafe's life difficult.

"Dahl is my second in command she doesn't need a leash." Or encouragement to start trouble when bored, he adds silently to himself.

"She could be running her own team of mercs for ya." Riddick points out wandering towards one of the internal walls to rub his fingers across a seam he shouldn't even know is there. "But you won't even share all of your toys." He shoves a knife into the wall and miraculously doesn't damage anything but the cloaking mechanism protecting the heavy door of the weapons safe.  Rafe has his gun out not even having to think about it aiming it at the younger man. "Come on Johns, are we back to that again? Don't ya trust me?" Ignoring the raised gun Riddick stalks over until the barrel is pressed into his chest and Rafe has to take his finger off the trigger.

"Stay out of there." He orders already knowing that he's going to be ignored.

"What, got something good?" The killer grins like a kid at Christmas and Rafe realizes that he's being wound up. He shoves the gun into Riddick's chest once more before lowering it. "You don't know how to crack a lock do you?" Rafe concludes annoyed at having been played.

"Never had the patience for it." The young man shrugs, "Too much sitting around, not enough payoff, could usually find someone else to do it. Got any food around here?"

"That you haven't managed to find?" Rafe marvels holstering his gun and going off to the kitchen with Riddick trailing after him.

"You people vacuum seal everything. Can't smell it, but I can smell the gun oil." He does have a point, Rafe concedes, searching through the cabinets until he manages to scrap up enough ingredients to pull together something edible. Riddick perches on a chair watching with obvious interest.

"Why are you here anyway? Last time I saw you, there were places you needed to be in a hurry." Rafe hadn't bothered to ask what exactly Riddick had been planning before he'd gone off; he'd decided that it was better for his sanity not to know. He never expected to see Riddick again, it wouldn't have occurred to him to expect Riddick to track him, to a merc planet no less, certainly not to just to watch him cook.

"Was going to go sort out some walking corpses—then figured ya might be able to help, if I ask nice." Rafe snorts concentrating on cutting up the liberated vegetables. The idea of Riddick being nice, is terrifying as far as Rafe is concerned.

"Help with what?" As much as he fights it, curiosity has always been a weakness: it's not every day that one of the top contracts comes to find one of the mercs aiming to collect on him.

"Furya, mercs keep files right? Someone must've been there once or twice." He's heard about the planet, some at least: the only planet that managed to stand against the Necromongers for a while before it was overrun. He'd been too young to really care when it happened too busy establishing his rep fresh out of the service. All he'd cared about at the time that it had limited the competition for the high end counties.

"You want to find it?" He's seen worlds visited by Necromongers before, there wasn't much left: dust and bones usually.

"Man's got to know where he came from." The killer shrugs suddenly behind Rafe reaching under his arm to steal a piece of vegetable.

"Considering you're still alive I doubt you were born there." What he does know of Furyans tells Rafe that they wouldn't have run: children present or not they would have stood their ground and tried to fight off the invaders. The main reason Furyans are now thin on the ground, Rafe resists the urge to lean back against the warm body hovering behind him, is that they've never known when to quit.

"Probably right, orphanage never was clear on how they got me." The statement shouldn't affect Rafe as much as it does. He tells himself that it's an unfortunate side effect of sleeping with a mark: it makes them too human for comfort. "Still want to find it." And if Rafe doesn't help, he's pretty sure that Riddick is going to go after the Necromongers again and that is potentially more than the universe can withstand at the moment.

"Sit back down, I don't know where you've been." He elbows Riddick in the ribs to little effect, but it does get him some breathing room. Shoving everything in the pan, Rafe makes tea offering a cup to Riddick who finally pulls off the goggles. "You know  _exactly_ where I've been."

He shouldn't let the tone get to him: not matter how much it reminds him of having the younger man between his legs. Rafe reminds himself that he's managed to stay professional while offered a hell of a lot more incentive than the loyalty of one animalistic killer. "Look Johns, I'm not asking ya ta hold my hand when I go looking, just to check a registry."

Rafe doesn't want to say 'yes', but he can't bring himself to say 'no' either because he's always had a soft spot for scrappers no matter what species. He puts a plat in front of Riddick throwing some cutlery in the middle of the table not really expecting it to be used and is surprised yet again when his...he damns himself for thinking this way, convict demonstrates his proficiency with using a knife and fork. He's tempted to pinch himself to see if he's dreaming, but figures that his imagination isn't capable of this kind of absurdity anyway.

"I can ask around, have to check in at the main Guild office anyway update the membership." Rafe tells himself that he can look: there is probably nothing to find. A lot of information got lost when a couple of central planets got fried. No one had thought to make backups where the Necromongers wouldn't think to look, now chances are that colonies are somewhere lost in the black waiting for supplies or thriving forgotten by the rest of the world.

Rafe has always known that if ever the human race encountered aliens, chances would be that it'd turn out they were lost humans anyway. Riddick doesn't bother acknowledging the offer concentrating on his food with gratifying enthusiasm. It reminds Rafe that at the core, they are both spacers and fresh produce is always to be appreciated no matter the circumstances. He's seen Riddick's files: it isn't even that they've started out in different worlds, the navy had taken them taught them their skills. Only difference being is that Riddick hadn't felt the need to give something back. He does do the dishes looking surreal and perfectly at home at the sink leaving Rafe to wonder how many people have seen this sight.

As far as he knows Riddick has never had a partner, or a traveling companion for any length of time so it isn't really a surprise that he can take care of himself. It's only the domesticity of it that's making Rafe's head ache. "How did you manage to get here anyway?" He questions sipping the remainder of his cold tea.

"Turns out Santana might have been a rude fucker, but he was high up in the food chain for whatever reason. No one had registered his death with the guild either so all his codes worked—Once ya manage to land not many people bother asking question round here." Rafe has mentioned to the guild representatives that it's not an ideal system but they are confident that no one would have the brains, or the balls to even try. Riddick's presence makes him question how many marks he'd manage to find if he went hunting on home ground. After Dahl comes back it's certainly something to consider if only to be able to sleep in his own bed for a while longer.

"I wish I didn't know that." Not that he hadn't known there was a chance that Riddick would try something with a merc skiff in hand, but he hadn't expected this. "I _am_ going to notify the Guild about Santana's demise."

"Don't need them any more anyway." The killer shrugs carelessly reaching for some more tea, he looks like he's damn self satisfied rocking on the back legs of the chair without a care in the world. He looks like he belongs in the compact kitchen sitting across from Rafe filling up the silence in the apartment. "Next time ya'll be inviting me."  Silver eyes wink and Rafe realizes that he's missed the amoral bastard.

"When hell freezes over." He allows himself a smile, "Now what was it about you being _nice_?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Knew that would get ya attention." Putting his cup back on the table the killer rises pulling Rafe up as well when he doesn't follow fast enough. He's slammed into the kitchen wall, his neck savaged pleasurably as Riddick rubs against him reminding Rafe of an cat yet again. His hands skim across the hard body pinning him down, fingers catching on the straps and buckles that make up the killer's armor feeling for a handhold to keep Riddick close. A thick thigh forces its way between his thighs giving Rafe something to grind against.

"Got a decent bed in this joint?" Is growled into Rafe's skin, before he's manhandled in the direction of the master bedroom. Rafe barely has time to feel amusement at what he realizes is Riddick's version of politeness , before they are at the bedroom door and Rafe freezes. The need to keep the killer out of the bed he shared with his wife flares up, it's on the tip of Rafe's tongue to demand that they go to the guest room where there are no memories to deface. Riddick stops halfway to the bed, turning to Rafe with a raised brow casual enough that it almost doesn't look like he's waiting for permission.

Stepping over to him, Rafe throws his arms around the younger man who's grin is surprisingly infectious, and nudges Riddick towards the bed. He's allowed to push the killer down onto the mattress, watch him sprawl there stretching to take up as much space as possible. "Soft." Riddick concludes in a tone suggesting the description to be a failing. Rafe just snorts pulling his shirt off before kneeling between the younger man's legs.

"When's the last time you saw an actual bed?" It is still a rush: the predator under his hands, letting Rafe do as he pleases. His upper hand over the killer is an illusion, but one Rafe will take gladly and enjoy the hell out of as long as he's allowed to.

"Stiffs had them, got crowded pretty fast, ended up in the ducts ta get some shut eye." He reaches up digging his nails into Rafe's flank in a not so subtle attempt to spur him on, but Rafe ignores the sting enjoying looking his fill.

"I can imagine." Reaching out, he runs his fingers across the collarbone pleased when Riddick arches into the touch. "I miss beds out in the black, that and the leg room." He traces the same path with his tongue, enjoying the rasp of stubble against stubble where his cheek brushes Riddick's jaw. "At least here there is room to maneuver." The killer laughs and raises his brow in challenge and Rafe looks significantly at the headboard.

"Jones! Ya going kinky on me?" The taunt almost has him rethinking what he intends, but then he remembers whom he's dealing with. Riddick's hand on the back of his neck, fingers pressing at the base of his skull where Riddick would sink his blade in if Rafe was an enemy, they are all a tease. "Thought ya'd be too white bread for that kind of shit." Digging his nails in Riddick forces him down until their mouths clash in a biting kiss. "Makes me wonder what else ya've been hiding—" Rafe catches the convict's free hand in answer forcing it up to the headboard rungs. "Keep it there." He orders gruffly between bites and licks while Riddick complies chuckling into Rafe's mouth.

He straightens up, sitting back on his heels to study the body on offer properly for the first time. With Luna and Dahl only a bulkhead away, they hadn't had much time for proper exploration while back on the skiff. He traces the faint lines of scars that litter Riddick's skin marveling at the convict's ability to heal. Riddick's hands move restlessly on the rungs, but don't let go. "If you want to go for the knife you think I didn't notice you stashing, I won't stop you." He finally murmurs around a tight nipple. It isn't really a knife that's been hidden between the mattress and the headboard, more of a razor that Riddick shoves there when he thought Rafe wasn't looking too close.

For an instant Riddick's features could over with suspicion, his body stiffening under Rafe getting ready for a fight, then relaxes again when Rafe keeps entertaining himself by licking and biting at the tight bit of flesh in his mouth. It takes a while for the convict to make up his mind, but he eventually settles again allowing Rafe to continue his explorations.

The hesitation remind him that they might be fucking, and Riddick may want his help but he doesn't trust Rafe. Not that Rafe can blame Riddick, not knowing what he does from the documented parts of Riddick's history along with the rumors floating around. With anyone else, the knowledge of the razor he won't be fast enough getting to would spoil his mood, with Riddick it just remind Rafe to be patient. Eventually silver eyes fall closed again, Rafe is granted permission to carry on and Riddick's trust that he won't get his throat slit. Yet somehow Rafe suspects the killer wouldn't be particularly surprised if Rafe changed his mind and attempted it anyway. The more time he spends with a killer, the more Riddick becomes a person in Rafe's eyes. Eventually, he suspects, he'll be compromised beyond his ability to do his job. And yet he can't stop, not while he has the chance to show Riddick that trusting people doesn't always has to end badly.

He caresses his way down to circle the younger man's hipbones, to scratch across powerful thighs until Riddick accepts the touch. He mouths at the cock in front of him distracting his convict while he explores further between his legs finding the entrance to the powerful body by touch.

Rafe takes his time getting familiar with the territory, giving Riddick time to adjust at the same time. The heat of him draws Rafe in, on the inside Riddick is hot enough that Rafe worries about getting his cock seared off once he pushes in. There is lube in the bedside drawer where Rafe remembers leaving it the last time he was home, he slicks his fingers up watching Riddick watch him in return. For a moment he wonders if he shouldn't stop, but selfishly decides that Riddick can damn well stop him if Rafe goes too far. Sucking and licking along the shaft in his mouth while fucking his fingers into Riddick's body Rafe waits to be stopped while listening for the change in breathing pattern that signals he'll be allowed to proceed.

"Damn it Johns!" Riddick finally growls frustration in every word, and Rafe grins sure that whatever demons had been roaming the killer's brain until that moment have left them for the moment.

"Need something?" He enquires sweetly pulling off the hard flesh with a sloppy slurp. He half expects to be thrown off, for Riddick to take control again to satisfy himself in Rafe's body. The head board rungs splinter, but Rafe isn't bucked off but pulled closer instead Riddick's leg hooking around his hip to drag him closer.

"Need ya ta get on with it before I fall asleep." Rafe laughs at the empty threat, sinking his teeth into hard muscle just above the hipbone in reprimand.

"Didn't you promise to be nice?" He wonders slicking up his cock.

"This _is_ nice." Riddick growls as he is entered, stilling as Rafe works himself deeper inch by inch. He doesn't bother to reply, just drapes himself over the powerful body covering it as best he can while catching his breath.

"Yes , it is." He swallows the next growl of annoyance slowly fucking into his killer, enjoying the way Riddick's body welcomes him. Sweat slicks their bodies, makes it easier for Riddick's cock to slide against Rafe's abdomen trapped as it is between them. Letting Riddick carry his weight, Rafe slides his hands up the younger man's arms until he can pry them off the broken rungs. He presses them into the mattress next to Riddick's head, pleased when the killer presses back.

Pleasure builds slowly and steadily as they exchange lazy kisses, somewhere along the way it stops mattering who is on top and why. Rafe arches off the mattress into Riddick's body cursing when Riddick refuses to speed up. Pinned down, Rafe can do nothing but enjoy being used for his convict's pleasure. Riddick looks down, leans down and takes Rafe's mouth again until he's out of breath and seeing galaxies spinning behind his eyes. The biting kisses continue along Rafe's jaw and down his throat until too sharp teeth are sinking into the muscle connecting neck to shoulder bruising and tearing skin.

The pain of the bite contrasts with the pleasure that's been slowly building enough to provide the final jolt Rafe needs to find his release. He doesn't bother biting back any noise for once groaning his release with abandon. Riddick growls against the mark he's making pulling their hands towards his cock to find his own release fucking into their tangled hands.

Rafe is grateful that his convict manages to drop to the side instead of on his chest leaving him to watch his breath. He hates no longer being inside of the furnace that is Riddick's body, but lying next to him Rafe can still enjoy the heat of it to some extent. He manages to turn himself around so that he can get to the pillow, and Riddick follows with a discontent grumble. Only when they are still again and Rafe is on his way to falling asleep, does he realize that his convict has positioned himself between Rafe and the door.     


	5. Chapter 5

Leaving Riddick cleaning the apartment weapon's stash, Rafe calls a transport to get him to Guild HQ. It takes some effort to make the younger man promise to stay put instead of going exploring, or following Rafe just for the hell of it. He'd prefer to take the bike, but wolves among wolves are sometimes worse than the cons they hunt for a living. Rafe has enough on his plate without spending extra time and cash on securing his hardware against his colleagues.

The transport takes him into the 'old' part of the city close to the space port where the first permanent structures had once been built by colonists from transport containers and mud. The facade of the HQ still looks like the whole structure had been build from space scrap hiding the modern complex from the more naïve onlookers.

He wrestles his way inside past the clusters of men and women talking, bargaining and trying to find another crew to buy their way into. Rafe nods at people he knows,  but doesn't stop when his name is called. He knows a lot of crew captains on sight, despite staying out of politics and rarely working together with others not under his command Rafe has been around long enough that he can't help but know people. Half the people he passes by will become a bounty sooner or later, Rafe has never been under any illusions regarding his profession or the Guild's screening procedures. Everyone who can pay the yearly fee, and stay out of interplanetary hot sheets. Riddick wouldn't be out of place among the men and women who step aside to let him pass out of respect for his age and the shot gun on his back.

He pays his fees, than Dahl's and Luna's as well at the automatic tellers before making his way through the crowds and out of the public halls into the office part of the building. Checking the com-registry nets him a name he's familiar with in a comfortably middling position and with enough history between them that no one will get suspicious if he goes up to visit.

Badger is an amoral bastard, a habitual card cheat and only out to enrich himself, but he's never forgotten a favor owed or debt in need of repayment. Not bothering to call ahead, Rafe works his way through security and onto the top floors once he has the location of his prey in hand.

He finds his prey with a party girl in his lap giggling at something and a bottle on the table. The man is twenty years Rafe's senior, and still acts like he's forty years younger. "Rafe Johns! As I live and breathe!" Badger calls out as soon as he notices his the additional company pushing the girl off his lap. "Last time I heard you were still sifting through the scum at the arse end of the universe." The girl slinks from the room radiating offence ignored by them both as Rafe drops into the visitor's chair.

"You know I never trust outposts where paying my dues is concerned." He huffs nodding in thanks at the offered drink. Badger looks sympathetic, or as sympathetic as someone can be who actively exploits the tendency of the automatic tellers to drop zero's in interplanetary transmissions at the faintest excuse. Rafe doesn't hold it against him, not all men can be soldiers and without the bureaucrats the Guild would collapse anyway. At least Badger has always been honest about his side businesses.

"Shameful how hard honest men are to find these days!" Tinkering with the auto-tellers is practically a planetary hobby on the outer planets. It's easier to swing around to HQ than try to fight it in the hopes of ever being able to do payments where ever they are. "Ever considered lending your stellar services to the Guild finance department?" Badger continues his eyes already bright with the prospect. "You'd be sleeping in your own bed two months out of three—" And breaking potentially innocent men's kneecaps on Guild orders the rest of the time, Rafe mentally adds.

"I'll consider it, maybe after I retire just to keep things from getting boring." He's long since accepted that 'retirement' in his line of work is getting buried in the family plot if he's lucky and a shallow grave on some no-name world if he isn't. Not that he's going to tell Badger that, especially while asking for favors. Most mercenaries and bounty hunters dream of retiring big: buying some asteroid or moon and living it up in their remaining years. Listening in at a merc bar always gives the impression that everyone there is just one big score away from making it, Rafe never saw the point of lying to himself or his crew in that regard.

He checked the hot sheets in the main hall before going up uncomfortably aware that his 'one big score' is probably getting bored by now cooped up in an apartment without his preferred entertainment. Rafe could round up a half decent team just by giving notice that he's looking for bodies in the main hall. Dropping the name 'Riddick' would probably get him people waiting in line considering the current bounty on the young man's head. Annoyingly his convict would only take it as a challenge to go roaming around Guild HQ while people are out looking for him. Sending a quick prayer to whomever is listening that it won't happen, grinning at Badger while enjoying the expensive whiskey and reads the large screen set into the office wall where the top bounties scroll past in a never-ending loop.

A bad picture of Riddick comes up with only the bounty and a couple of warnings blinking across it reminding Rafe once again how little about the killer has been confirmed as fact over the years. "Got a rumor last time out, about the place he might be found." He gestures at the picture before it disappears and winking at Badger significantly.

The bureaucrat snorts with amusement. "There are always rumors! I've got a drawer full of pads filled with rumors, but no one desperate enough to go check them out since Santana took up the ticket." Rafe grimaces remembering the man. "Didn't take you for the suicidal type." It also reminds him to check with port authority to get those flight codes pulled. Riddick might not share or sell them, but Rafe hates holes in security on principle.

"I'm not, but I _am_ curious about the fellow." A lot of people have been and still are, he tries to give Badger the impression that he's just found himself a new hobby to occupy the time between the regular bounties he collects for a living. "There are too many stories floating around about the man, he's practically a myth!" A myth that's decided to attach himself to Rafe for some reason and has a code far more rigid than Rafe's own in some ways. "If a little research on my part while I'm waiting for Dahl to return helps—" He shrugs projected boredom along with the martyred expression of a captain who's been forced to give up his ship even for a short time.

"So why are you talking to me instead of prodding the old cortex?" Badger prods and Rafe knows he has his interested. There is a lot out there that can be unearthed asking the right questions in the right places and throwing money at the right people...but someone has to be willing to do it. History isn't something either mercenaries or criminals bother with over much these days: no time for it when chasing a big pay-off. So, Rafe being willing to do the work...Badger can't not see a profit in that.

"Funny thing, the planet I'm looking for seems to be missing from the public data available. Almost like someone put a lot of effort into wiping it off the maps. All I can see is edges and vague references for some damn reason." He hasn't bothered asking around yet, not without figuring out where to start asking. Furya, for all that's been destroyed less than half a century before, sometimes seems like it never existed at all. Even those who remember it, act like they don't.

"If they don't have it, might be that it doesn't exist after all. You know the cortex can't be wiped."  Everyone knows the cortex can't be wiped, except that of course it can be with enough effort and the knowledge which relay stations to destroy.

"Maybe, but I'm not interested in the Guild star charts. I want a look at the archives, see if I can find something there that might give me another clue to put the pieces together." Legend has it the records stored in the basement of the Guild HQ go back to the very beginning: to practically the moment the Guild was established as a proper organization. "I don't have anything better to do anyway—" He shrugs, taking another sip of his drink.

"Yes, until your pretty protégé returns. Still as terrifying as ever?"

"She does alright." He doesn't like the glint in Badger's eyes when he asks. Rafe has almost gotten used to the implied and outright questions about his sleeping with his second in command: the woman he practically considers his daughter. He's been getting them since he promoted her, some people just don't get that Rafe would not sleep with anyone under his command.

"I suppose I could give you a pass—" Badger finally sighs when Rafe doesn't rise to the bait. "Not many people bother with the archives these days anyway. The lack of direct cortex access mostly, we seem to keep the files around more out of tradition than anything else these days." Rafe wonders how guilty his conscience will be after he does the favor he's going to owe to get the chit with so little trouble.  "Since I'm feeling magnanimous today." Badger reaches into the desk coming up with a security card he codes for access.

"Mightily neighborly of you."  Rafe smiles when the cards is laid next to his drink.

"Oh no trouble, after all: old dogs like us should stick together or we'll be overrun by all the young rabble who think they know better!" Badger pours himself another shot and they toast. "Just keep me in the loop if you find anything of interest will you, Johns? I could use the entertainment as well."  Rafe nods and changes the subject now that the pass is in arm's reach waiting for him.

Another drunk and some reminiscing later, Rafe leaves Badger to do whatever the man does all day and goes down to the ground floor wondering if he shouldn't go home if only to check that the place is still standing. In the end he decides against it, Badger might be looking in on him and doing as he said is safer than drawing Badger's attention to the fact that Rafe has company at home.

The archives are in the basement surrounded by reinforced walls that might just live through an attack from space. He doubts the use any future generations could have for old bounty hunter records, but for the moment the files certainly are convenient.

A chubby, disgruntled looking archivist studies the pass minutely before letting him through to the computer bank that allows him access, then hovers close by trying to glare a hole through his back until she's satisfied he won't burn the place down...right that moment. Rafe considers simply looking up Riddick by name, but disregards the notion considering he isn't sure if it is in fact the killer's family name and not just one he laid claim on at random. The army records indicate that Riddick was raised in an orphanage making it even more likely that the last name was randomly selected along with the first name and a useless initial.

The service records he needs are laughably easy to pull up using his tablet to link to the cortex, he reads through Riddick's dishonorable discharge and arrest and back to the planet where the young man signed up, the one where the orphanage was located.

The sector is nothing special: no important trade routes, no raw materials they could sell for profit, no major population centers, just people getting by the best they can. The planet sits on the very edge of the trail of destruction that the Necromongers blazed through that part of space, it's insignificance the most likely reason for the fact that it had been left untouched. There isn't even a record of allegiance to any corporation or a conglomerate alliance, just a free port on a dust ball willing to let everyone in as long as they can pay.

The archivist coughs obnoxiously behind his back startling Rafe out of his thoughts to marvel at how many hours he's been digging around the records. His back lets him know that hunching over the terminal wasn't one of his brightest ideas when he straightens up and Rafe decides that he's done for the day.

Looking for a planet that might not be there any longer, for a people who are for all intents and purposes are extinct, makes Rafe grateful for his family's old bible handed over to him by his father. It roots him to the past, reminds Rafe where he came from almost all the way to the original generation ships that took humanity to the stars. He can't imagine floundering around never knowing who his people are for sure, convinced that he's alone in the universe. The whole ride back home, Rafe tries to imagine what would have happened to him, if he hadn't had his family at his back, his duties and goals laid out before him. The conclusions he comes to, they leave him grateful for the way his life has taken.


	6. Chapter 6

Getting slammed into the wall as soon as the door closes behind him, isn't the welcome Rafe expects.  He holds his breath as a blade caresses his jugular for an indeterminable amount of time before it is removed and Riddick steps away.

"Hello to you too." He snipes a day of hard work crashing down  on him like an avalanche . As soon as he's released, Rafe pushes  through to the living room  to drop onto the couch . Riddick shadows him,  moody and agitated like a da rk cloud that stays hovering just out of his line of sight .

"Alert went up on the wire. My face on every terminal on the whole planet." The younger man finally growls  accusingly and  Rafe knows he's still one impulse away from a knife buries in the base of his skull.

"There would be." His body reminds him that he isn't exactly a spring chicken any longer and  sitting still  never  was  his thing anyway. He's always felt better humping it across rivers and mountains than sitting on his ass , chasing after his prey or just the horizon . 

"So when are the goons coming?"  He doesn't have to look to see  that  all  t he walls Riddick has are up, walls  Rafe hadn't even known were there. 

"I don't know, did you do anything to alert the authorities that you  a re here?"  He can't resist asking annoyed with the mistrust.  Considering the place is still standing, whomever is stupid enough to look won't be looking in th is  direction.  He isn't really surprised that Badger updated the bounty, just to make things interesting.  Riddick just growls in response  energy  bleeding out through every aborted gesture  until  it  propels him into stalking the perimeter of the room. He doesn't ask the question that's in all likelihood eating at him leaving Rafe to wonder if it's because Riddick is afraid of the answer or because  asking again after the perceived betrayal would be too much .

"I found something." He helps his convict out of his misery. "It might be nothing, no way to tell really, but you never went back to question the people  who ran the orphanage did you?"

"Why the hell would I do that?" The answer doesn't really surprise Rafe. "They were more than happy to see the back of me." If Riddick had any attachment to the place chance are he wouldn't have left. Rafe wonders if the younger man is trying to intimidate him, breathing down his neck like Rafe is a civilian who'd fold just because someone co mes too close. "Was no reason ta  look anyway, didn't even know  there was anything ta look  for  until an Elemental broad on New Mecca enlightened me."

"Well, now might be a good time to go ask." Rafe offers, finding himself unsurprised when Riddick slinks around the couch and drops on the other side of  it .  He  ignores Riddick's hands staying close to his knives  and the unsecured safeties on the holsters .

"If there is anyone still alive ta  ask.  The old women didn't know nothing ta tell me except I got fished out of a dumpster, umbilical cord 'round my neck." As he talks, Riddick pulls one of the shivs letting the blade dance between his fingers like the most lethal security blanket in the world. " Necro's  told me some things a few years back, some prophecy or some crap the Elemental made 'bout the head corpse: a Furyan'd ghost him. Did too, got the bastard good. He told me, was aiming so no one would remember what a Furyan was when he was done. Guess it worked." The shiv makes complicated patterns between them, but Rafe realizes that he isn't worried.

Prophecies don't exist, as far as Rafe is concerned, he's religious enough but the universe doesn't get involved in man's lives that way. Necromongers and Elementals, creatures from stories told to children before bedtime, not things Rafe ever imagined having to deal with for real.  If anyone else came to him with a story like the one he's slowly piecing together, Rafe would call him a liar without hesitation. Only he knows Riddick doesn't lie: he doesn't see a reason to, not about his past or his actions. Even if he did, such an absurd story wouldn't be the place to start.

"A t least it's a place to start." Even Furyans wouldn't have gone into space willingly with pregnant women on board: radiation and shoddy gravity playing havoc with a fetus and if they had been forced too, they wouldn't have gone far. Running would have been the last resort, an act of desperation most likely by a handful of survivors in any ship they could get  their hands on. He hadn't found any mentions of large passenger ships stopping at the little planet, only cargo haulers an small personal skiffs not really equipped to transport people outside of cryo. It didn't mean that Furya had been close, but there had to have been something...there might be a temporary base or a colony to be found with an intact data storage. "I'm going back tomorrow to see if I can find more, after that the space port of the planet you were raised on is the safest bet: there may be logs, or someone who remembers fugitives arriving." He muses unable to let go of the puzzle he's been presented with.

"How come I'm on the screens?" The killer interrupts him, some of the tension  bleeding out of his shoulders.  Rafe  stretches his arms along the couch back and it almost seems like Riddick leans forward minutely almost like he want the touch.

"I don't have a  permanent clearance for the archives. Only a select group in the Guild leadership has free access." He closes his eyes, but prompted by an inquisitive growl continues talking. "Badger, my contact, likes to know things. Especially things that may net him an impressive payday like that bounty on your head." He can feel suspicion rise again and stretches just a little more to poke at said head, marveling when his finger s are  allowed to connect. "I had to tell him something. Half truth, I find, are easier t o remember than right-out lies, and if you paid attention anyone who  goes  looking ,  will  start  at your last confirmed location." Rafe just hopes that the rain season is over by the time any crew lands on that damn  piece of  rock.

"Don' matter, had a whole planet on my ass before." The killer grumbles as Rafe imagines the carnage. All the reliable reports of Riddick's presence have been followed by collateral damage and a body count he'd rather not be faced with...again. An insidious thought worms it's way to the surface making him wonder what would have happened if Riddick hadn't been send to the slam, or left alone after to disappear into the wild of some backwater planet.

"You'll have to contain your disappointment then." Rafe finally looks at his convict who has the audacity to pout, he doesn't even try to resist the urge to kick the young man. "It's not happening, Dahl will be back with the skiff in two days, then we'll head out."

"We ?" Riddick parrots, and Rafe had intended to cut him loose, if only to keep the kids safe from everyone gunning for the killer but the puzzle is too good to resist, and as much as he hates to admit it the younger man has grown on him. Dahl is never going to leave him alone about it, but Rafe wants to understand what kind of man Riddick is.

"It might be profitable." He says to keep up appearances. "And I can't let you go running around without supervision in good conscience."

"Don't need a minder!" Rafe's pinned against the back of the couch, his arms  immobilized  against the back of the couch by a pissed off killer. He does resist the urge to point out that the way Riddick usually  operates , he needs several.

"Maybe not, but you can use the company." He doesn't bother fighting against the  hold Riddick has on him .  Rafe  opens his eyes to see Riddick frowning down at him, can see Riddick fighting himself trying to decide if  the  offer is legitimate. "Two days to cross reference some things—" He can see Riddick searching for a reason to tell him 'no', but keeps going regardless. "— Santana's codes  won't  work by then, but they don't check outgoing ships that are registered to the Guild as active."

With a huff  Riddick's  finally capitulates  for the time being, despite his planet Rafe isn't under the illusion that there isn't a big chance the killer is going to disappear once he has the information Rafe can provide. He thinks about his while fixing dinner: the attachment he's developing to a criminal, to a man who doesn't fit in Rafe's life in any way and is as unlikely to stay put as a comet.

He finds himself unsure how to proceed. 

Mary, god rest her soul, had made it easy on him. They'd practically grown up together and she'd waited for him while he went through basic. They got married at the base he'd be serving his tour at  and  she'd given him a son and a home never complaining about all the time he spend chasing deserters and criminals until illness took her. Mary had been beautiful and sweet, practically raised to be a soldier's wife from a young age like a lot of girls were on his colony. 

After Mary's passing, he hadn't thought about looking for anything  again.  Rafe  had his son and his business, both kept him occupied enough that he rarely remembered that alone isn't a man's natural state. Of course there had been the occasional companion over the years, but those had all been temporary and Rafe never considered making any of the liaisons anything else. The argument can be made that Rafe is just riding a wave of hormones, more in love with the idea of having someone in his bed most nights... Feeding the both of them, his thought return to the question what Riddick would be like without a rap sheet a mile long.

He'd make a good soldier, had made a good soldier, good enough to not only survive but draw the attention of his superiors as well earning extra training. Riddick had been given responsibility young, and perhaps he hadn't been ready for that, if his commanders had been more mindful of the killer's background... Of course if Riddick wasn't a fugitive convict with a bounty on his head, Rafe wouldn't have come across the man. Billy wouldn't have lost his life chasing the man across start systems...Rafe shoves the thoughts away concentrating on the present. He's mourned his son a long time ago, he has his answers or at least all the answers he's going to get.

Riddick leaves Rafe to his thoughts, comfortable with the silence and appreciative of the food, slinking off after most of the cleaning is done. Riddick has followed him, had brought him a convict with a high bounty on his head as a 'present', hasn't broken his word once: anyone else doing that would already be co-opted into Rafe's crew on probationary basis. Dahl certainly wouldn't mind, she'd enjoyed having someone to bait around, the rest of the crew was no longer in a position to complain.

He decides to see who is looking to jump ship the official way at HQ tomorrow, get some decent people with good references to see if they fit. Riddick doesn't expect him to tag along anyway and wouldn't be surprised with Rafe changing his mind and looking out for his own hide. Having finished cleaning he returns to the living room to find Riddick back on the couch juggling several dice. "Ever play ship, captain, and crew?" He wonders tossing one of the dice at Rafe. He catches it trying to remember if he still had some lying around the apartment or if Riddick has unearthed them from the bag that seems to be his only possession safe for the shivs.

"Stakes or drink?" He shoots back not surprised when the answering grin tells him that most likely he'll be dealing with both. "Why would you want to get me drunk?" Rafe wonders dropping onto the couch.

"I thought ya said ya played, no fun—"

Deciding to avoid a discussion Rafe retrieves a bottle setting it on a small table he kicks closer for them to  play  on. "Just roll the damn dice."


	7. Chapter 7

It doesn't take more than a dozen of rolls for Rafe to conclude that Riddick cheats guiltlessly, shamelessly and with relish. He doesn't bother pointing it out willingly taking shot after shot until the table in front of him starts to tilt without moving Riddick drinks along, seemingly unaffected by the alcohol he ingests. They end up leaning on each other in the middle of the couch Rafe watching as Riddick calls the numbers before throwing the dice. He isn't sure how he ends up on his back with his convict pulling off his boots. When Rafe manages to get his eyes focused in the darkness, all he can see are silver points glowing down on him in the darkness.

"You really are like a stray cat." He tells the glowing points batting at the darkness until something pins his wrists to the bed.

"Ya drunk Johns." Riddick chuckles while Rafe realizes that his shirt is gone and by the sound of it his pants won't last long either. 

"Your fault." He accuses enunciating carefully while grabbing at the darkness. Rafe isn't completely sure what he wants that exact moment but he certainly won't object to feeling Riddick's body next to his so Rafe can enjoy the heat it radiates. His pants disappear and so do the silvers eyes eliciting a wordless protest. "Pretty eyes—" A part of him that seems to be standing to the side observing dispassionately notes that Rafe is whining. Riddick doesn't seem to mind, the silver points return closer now along with a body Rafe can lean against to keep the room from spinning.

"Thank you." Is whispered into his ear accompanied by a sharp nip at his ear. Rafe is pretty sure Riddick is laughing at him, but can't find it in himself to care too busy with keeping the world from spinning around him and making him dizzy. Rafe can't remember when he'd been this drunk before. Probably some time after Mary's death...didn't have anyone he trusted enough to watch his back after despite having some good people under his command. His men and women needed someone to give a good example, so he did. Riddick wouldn't know what to do with a good example if it bit him in the ass.

"Never would have taken ya for a chatty drunk." A heavy arm drapes across Rafe's chest pinning him to the bed. It doesn't keep the world from spinning, but is comforting none the less.

"Not chatty! You're imagining things." He's pulled closer to the warm body grumbling and fighting nausea. Riddick is really too hard to make a comfortable pillow, but the sound of his heartbeat is soothing. "Yeah, do that a lot. Usually less entertaining ones."

Rafe wonders what predators dream about, he remembers the drawings on the walls of Riddick's den on the homicidal planet he found the younger man. Furya had occupied a lot of his thoughts along with hunting and exploring, but there had also been whimsical drawings of the dog that had accompanied the killer paw and hand prints in unlikely places. Rafe wishes that he'd taken pictures, not that they'd had time for it considering Riddick had been hunting all of them then.

He wonders if he should have tried to land on M6-117, if maybe along with his son's remains he would have found more of those drawings. Or maybe not, from the accounts the priest send out Rafe hadn't gotten the impression they had been there long so maybe not. "You saved the priest—the girl—" The alcohol loosens his tongue and the locks on the doors of his mind that keep all things long past and futile under control and from Rafe's mind. "Why couldn't you save my boy?" He digs his fingers into hard muscle intent on keeping the killer close, a barrier between him and his grief.

The hard body under him twitches, tries to pull away but Rafe holds on as much as he's able considering his state. He tries to throw his leg over Riddick's, tries to pull him closer when he feels Riddick's hand on his chest pushing him away. "Couldn't save anyone." Rafe isn't sure if he hears the words or if it's the drink, all his attention is consumed by keeping the younger man close as the young man tries to pull away.

Blind, he feels his way up along Riddick's chest and throat until he can trace the contours  of the killer's jaw despite his attempts to pull away. He forces Riddick to hold still, marveling how the skin of his palms catches on  stubble that isn't usually present.  "—Rafe?" He ignores the question, absorbed by the sound of their stubble scraping together until he feels his name mouthed against his lips.  In the darkness he doesn't have to pretend, doesn't have to play at casual . He teases those lips open, tastes and seduces until Riddick gives in allowing Rafe to take possession. Every time the younger man tries to talk Rafe swallows the sounds holding fast as the room keeps spinning.


	8. Chapter 8

He wakes up with one hell of a headache and barely any memories of what the hell happened the previous night. The bed feels too big, it always feels more comfortable when Rafe has to share, and when he stretches his arm out the sheets are cold. Getting up takes a couple of tries and bracing against the wall. Rafe briefly debates between a shower and looking for Riddick who seems to have finally caught up on sleep and already be up. By the time he reaches the bedroom door, Rafe decides that everything can wait until he's gotten at least water inside of him and maybe even coffee.

That decision lasts exactly as long as it takes for Rafe to cross the sitting room into the kitchen failing to find his convict. When even the sounds of food being pulled out of the cabinets fails to draw Riddick out, Rafe has to stop and think trying to recall what the hell happened the previous night. Mostly he remembers drinking far more than he'd thought to be able to these days.

A memory stirs, silver eyes in darkness and holding on for dear life as the room spins. Worry propels him to find the comm and call the space port to take Santana's registration off the lists. The officer on the other end tries to brush him off unwilling to deal with the paperwork, but dropping Badger's name works and Rafe hangs up assured that the skiff Riddick used to arrive isn't getting off the ground, and if it tries he'll be alerted.

Riddick doesn't leave much of a trail, but Rafe does find the backpack left at the front door ready for picked up. He guesses that Riddick is still somewhere close, possibly breaking into other apartments for whatever reason. Rafe is tempted to lock the bag in the weapons vault just to make sure that the killer will have to face him if he wants his things back. In the end, he doesn't do it deciding he isn't that childish quite yet, but he does move it into the bedroom before going for a shower.The water takes away more of the hurt, wakes some more brain cells, enough that Rafe is sure he'll be making it through the day. Flashes of memory come and go, words in the dark and the touch of skin on skin.

Riddick is on the bed, rummaging through the bag when Rafe comes back out digging through his things, he doesn't look up even when Rafe comes up next to him. "Planning on exploring the city?"

"Got bored." He closes the bag again rubbing across the seams. "Decided ta see what kind of supplies are lying around."

"Found anything fun?" In a complex occupied mostly by bounty hunters most of whom are rarely there, people can still be around. He wonders what his neighbors thought of Riddick wandering the halls, _if_ they saw him.

"Nope boring shit all around. Figured I'd have better luck heading out." Rafe figures he's still too hung over to properly appreciate what he's hearing.

"Heading out?" He tries to clarify, catching himself before giving into temptation to move into the doorway.

"Got what I came for. Time to move on." Rafe would believe the casual tone _if_ Riddick had looked him in the face while blowing him off. The convict radiates tension like he expects an attack at any moment.

"What exactly are you planning to use for transport?" He forces the same casual tone as Riddick privately smirking when the convict looks up, startled. It's good to know that despite Rafe having warned him, Riddick hadn't expected Rafe to constrain him in any way. Teeth bared he rises his hands already going to the knives. "I mean aside from _my_ skiff if Dahl doesn't manage to crash it on the way back." The reminder of their original plan stops the attack in its tracks, the younger man stops unsure what to do. "Ya gonna—"

He growls but Rafe interrupts. "Keep you here? No, you're free to go: I haven't opted your contract again so there is no reason for me to detain you." He almost believes what he says, despite wanting to do a full lockdown until he can sort out what has the younger man spooked all of a sudden.

"Well isn't that nice." The convict bitches, but Rafe takes it as a good sign that he's still not being attacked outright.

"I'm a nice guy." Rafe agrees allowing a hint of a smirk to show through. He takes a chance turning his back and walking out of the room. In the kitchen he sets some water to boil concentrating on it instead of listening for any sign of footsteps following him. Of course Riddick doesn't have to make a sound when he moves, and when Rafe turns around with two mugs of tea only years of experience keep the scalding liquid from getting tossed over both of them. Riddick is hovering at his back with barely any space between them, the backpack nowhere in sight.

"Ya wanna die Johns?" He can see something that just might be hurt or disappointment behind the anger that is the shield between Riddick and the universe. The convict takes the mug like he's accepting a live grenade, but takes it none the less.

"Why? Because I want to help?" Rafe wonders, something nags at his memory barely remembered through the haze of alcohol.

"Johns..." The hazy memories resolve themselves in a flash of clarity and putting his mug away Rafe grabs his convict by the scruff dragging him closer until their foreheads bump and they are close enough for Rafe to see the faint hint of outline that may be in iris and pupil under the trademark silver.

"I don't need saving. Been taking care of myself as long as you've been alive, maybe longer. If you don't want the company, that's fine." Even if Rafe is going to hate letting him go. "But if you're bailing because you think you have to babysit me if you stay around..." He doesn't finish, instead he tightens his hold on the back of Riddick's neck, digs his fingers into skin until he feels more than hears a warning growl. "You have another thing coming, 'cause I can still give you a run for your money tough guy!" The growl rises in volume, but Riddick doesn't pull away, they sway straining against each other both unwilling to back off or even give an inch. Riddick grips him by the hips, pulls Rafe closer until they are rocking together not exactly teasing...or pushing at each other, testing, it feels like a test to Rafe one he hopes to hell he passes because something tells him there won't be another chance.

Somehow he ends up leaning back against the counter eventually, legs spread to allow Riddick closer allowing the younger man to lean against him. Must be a novelty, he realizes, to have someone offer a shoulder to lean on without wanting anything in return. Eventually he feels tension slowly bleeding out of Riddick's muscles and takes the chance to lighten the atmosphere. "So how many of my neighbors will be calling the constables when they get back?"

"Ain't sloppy, security 'round here is a joke." As much as Rafe would like to protest, maybe they have gotten a bit lax considering the planet is mostly mercs and the people supplying them. "Didn't find anything interesting anyway." He isn't sure if the con is lying or not, but if a couple of neighbors end up missing a credit chip or two...they shouldn't have left them lying around. "Good to know. Go finish your tea." He finally pushes the younger man away ready for a sit-down, his body making it clear to him that between the excesses the night before and the adrenaline rush of finding Riddick ready to skip out...He hates admitting his age, even to himself, hates that his body sometimes needs a bit more time to get with the program, that he can't shake things off as fast as he use to when he was younger.

As much as he wants to go back to bed, a part of him doesn't completely trust that Riddick will still be there when he wakes up again. Watching Riddick drink his tea and watch him in return, Rafe wonders what the hell he's doing. Objectively, he knows that letting his convict go may have been the smarter move: he's had his closure after all... "Get back to bed before ya drop." Riddick orders looking into his mug like he can read the future there.

"I'm fine." He puts his mug into the sink trying to convince himself that he feels up to hours bend over a terminal despite his condition. "I'll be heading out to HQ soon, see if I can't dig up a little bit more."

"Will your pass work tomorrow?" The younger man asks finally looking up.

"Probably, Badger didn't give a time limit. I expect he'll cancel the access when he sees that I've left the planet." And possibly not even then if he thinks that Rafe is still hunting Riddick or maybe even someone else as long as Badger can expect to receive a cut from the take eventually.

"Then go tomorrow. If Dahl and Luna are back by then, take the kid along he can use the experience." Putting the mug in the sink somehow means that Riddick ends up plastered against Rafe's side again throwing an arm around his middle to pull him out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. Riddick pushes him on to the bed, and follows with an annoyed sigh when Rafe refuses to let go of him. "Ya ain't up ta fucking." He point out grumpily kicking at the blankets until he gets comfortable. Rafe tries not to laugh too hard to keep his head from throbbing.


	9. Chapter 9

Dahl comes back with little fanfare, but a lot of noise.

For some reason she decides that since Rafe has taken Riddick in already, his guest room is fair game and instead of looking for a hotel comes barging in, Luna following behind like the obedient puppy. Holding four people, the apartment suddenly feels too small: there are gear packs and bodies everywhere as the triumphant _children_ celebrate.

Rafe retreats to the kitchen away from Dahl and Riddick's sniping at each other with relish while inspecting the gear and Luna listening in awe. It takes him a while to admit that he's _missed this_ in the years since Billy went off on his own, missed having a full house. As a kid, Billy had been so _alive_ , that Rafe should have known something wasn't right long before his boy had gotten himself killed. His son had gone from trying to visit after every hunt, to sporadic comm calls and most of those had been without the video feed.

Sometimes Rafe wonders if the face he sees in his mind while thinking about his son, is even accurate. The pictures tell him it is, but he doesn't have anything from the last five years of his son's life...nothing but his killer. As if summoned by Rafe's dark thoughts, said killer comes wandering in crowding Rafe against the counter in an effort to check on the tea kettle. He doesn't step away once his curiosity is satisfied, leaning against Rafe's side instead.

"Don't." He rumbles soft enough that it can almost be mistaken for a wordless growl.

"I'm not doing anything." Rafe snaps annoyed, raising a hand to push the killer away, yet somehow ending up digging his fingers into Riddick's shoulder instead.

"I could kick them out if ya want." He's offered, but that would mean the apartment going quiet and still again, something Rafe doesn't want either. "No, it's just—" He doesn't know how to finish, but Riddick doesn't push just offers his shoulder as he quietly making himself a cup of tea. "How much packing to we still need to do?"

"Not much, assuming the skiff is resupplied on arrival." A part of Rafe is tempted to suggest they head for the craft as soon as they are done in the archives. Only the thought of penning the Furyan up for the day in a space even smaller than the apartment stops Rafe from making the suggestion.

"Then we go in 48 hours, depending on what Luna and I can dig up." Riddick nods, if he's not particularly happy with having to stay put, he keeps it to himself. It will take a couple of weeks for the skiff to reach their first destination... The prospect of sharing a skiff with a restless killer doesn't appeal at all, it certainly helps Rafe to make up his mind regarding his plan of action. "In the meantime, how about going for some fresh air I have an errant I need to run before we go." He ignores the raised brow pushing Riddick out of the way to get at the keys to the bikes. "Coming?"

With a shrug Riddick follows waving off the other kid's questions before they are even uttered, staying silent until they get to the elevator. "Better have a second bike." He grumbles looking down at the one set of keys in Rafe's hands.

"Feeling sensitive?" Rafe can't resist asking despite the last cobwebs of his dark mood falling away.

"Feeling like cutting loose." He grins wolfishly, not that Rafe can blame him having seen the way being stuck inside affects the man.

"No bikes, but you're going to like this." He leads his convict to the garage, the reason Mary and him had picked this complex specifically to keep a flat in: for those who were willing to pay large storage rooms could be purchased along with the apartments. The spare bikes are stored there, a lot of specialist gear they only need on occasion like specific atmosphere gear and the like...and the Johns family folly.

"Damn Johns, ya been holding out on me." Riddick purrs once he catches sight of the reason they've come down goes straight for Rafe's balls. He hasn't heard that tone from the man outside of sex, to hear it now while Riddick is circling the vehicle four generations of Johns have dragged along hopping planets and even star systems, it strains Rafe's system.

"Should I be jealous?" He asks leaning against the door trying not to laugh as Riddick pets the side of the transport with reverence. He laughs at Rafe's words, but doesn't stop touching the transport, leans against it instead still petting the roof.

"Gimme the keys, Johns." Riddick demands stretching his hand for them. "Or do I have to take them?" If they had the time...Rafe would have considered playing along, as is he tosses over the keys and gets in the passenger seat wordlessly punching their destination into the navigation for Riddick to follow.

The doors open automatically, triggered by the transport ID releasing them into the street. Riddick takes a few blocks to get to know the vehicle, then speeds up effortlessly passing other transports trying to push the limits. Rafe just buckles up and sits back. "Nice ride." His convict eventually concludes as they leave the residential area into what passes for the country side.

"Don't get your hopes up, it stays here: too bulky to take along and too old to take a beating." Much like he himself feels sometimes, especially when loosing members of his crew. Or watching the next generation playing around, funny how he's managed to forget those facts of late. As the gateway to the cemetery comes into view on the horizon, he wonders if that isn't a sign retirement should be a serious consideration. "Never underestimate a classic. Had them get me out of jams in the past...with a little coaching." It's almost enough to make Rafe smile, but not quite, not with their destination looming ahead of them.

The cemetery, once they pass the gates, has two distinct sides. To Rafe they've always represented the two roads the human race took upon reaching the starts: the dirt dwellers and the spacers living side by side but always separated by the knowledge that sooner or later every spacer would pick up and go, return to the always calling black one voyage at a time. Family history has it that they've been planet hopping for generations, had been planet hopping since the original Diaspora at times taking just their history along as they went. The mausoleum is the biggest piece of evidence there is that the Johns family history is true: it holds 10 generations as far as he knows, possibly more in a vacuum environment only accessibly after a DNA scan. He remembers how awed Billy had been when they set it down after they'd decided to settle. He'd thought that Billy would be the one to move it further eventually finding his own home base.

Riddick follows him without comment circling the mausoleum, trailing a hand along the pockmarked metal; tracing the name carved above the low hatch. "Don't ya get tired dragging this block around?" He wonders, his fingers finding the hidden DNA-scanner and toggling the hatch handle.

"'Man's got to know where he came from', wasn't that what you told me?" He nudges the younger man aside, flipping up the cover and putting his hand on the scanner.

"Wasn't planning on taking the planet with me. Just want to take a look-see." The air-tight seal opens with a hiss, and Riddick steps back sneezing as he goes.

"Used to think that too, but then I had to bring my pa home and suddenly leaving behind the thing seemed unbearable." The hand on his shoulder is heavy and solid giving Rafe the strength to step into the mausoleum in the full knowledge that he will never rest with the rest of his family. From the corner of his eye Rafe can see Riddick sniffing at the air as he leans over Rafe's shoulder to get a look inside.

"Keep your shades on." He warns stepping inside, blindly reaching for the light switch. Both side walls are covered in square compartments, the back wall holds a shut down terminal. "Get the door." The younger man huffs at the order, but does as he's told pulling the heavy door shut. Only when the lock snaps again, does Rafe step over to the terminal. "Now, let me show you the Johns family bible."


	10. Chapter 10

The screen flickers as Rafe throws a switch and the terminal comes online. It takes a while for the image on the screen to stabilize: Rafe can't even start to guess which of his ancestors had decided to start storing their history this way, but he can't be anything but grateful. The system menu lights up with a list of options from the family tree to the..."Star charts? Definitely holding out, Johns." Riddick taps at the screen frame next to the option, but refraining from actually using the terminal. "Not the reason we are here. You can have a look later; but the only thing those document, is where the family has been, and the Furyan colonies never were fans of visitors from what I remember being told."

"Still might be worth a look." The younger man shrugs, turning away to look at the markings on the compartments lining the walls. "Someone might have thought to mention the systems to avoid." He says reminding Rafe once again, that there is a reason this particular convict has never been caught for long. The back rows are the oldest, Rafe has started to notice that it takes him a little longer to decipher the old script with every visit, subtle signs of his age letting itself be known. Riddick traces the characters with a finger, Rafe notices his mouth moving sounding out the letters. "So, who was the first?" 

"Her," Rafe points at the compartment high up on the wall. "Sarah Johns, disembarked from one of the generation ships on Aberdeen just after it was terraformed. She didn't like farming much, good pilots were scarce and the ships doing the planet hopping not always safe, but she made it; passed the love of flying on to her kids." He points at the next compartment before tapping on the glass of the first one. "Thanks to her hard work, her grand-kids managed to save enough to buy a ship." 

Rafe almost gets lost in his family's history; he's always loved the stories, having a new audience for them is nice and Riddick doesn't seem to mind. Yet they aren't there for the stories, if Riddick wants to hear them there is going to be enough time while they are in the black again. Now, he needs to put some demons to rest. Turning back to the terminal, he selects the family files bringing up his son's stub. It has Billy's date of birth, date of death, his career until he went off on his own...and a lot of blanks after. "Tell me about my son, Riddick." He orders, bracing against the terminal in anticipation.

"Ya know everything I've gotta tell." The convict protests, pulling away ,  back to the hatch until he's only a voice in the darkness of the small space. "Johns was half decent, for a merc, until his demons got the better of him. Spend a lot of time playing tag—" 

"If you're trying to spare my feelings: don't." Rafe snaps, the walls of the mausoleum closing in on him for the first time since childhood. He doesn't want to hear the extent of his failure to his son, but duty requires him to hear it all, or as much of it as possible an d note it all down so that none- existent  future generation might learn something and avoid Rafe's mistakes.

"Wasn't his friend Johns, just the mark. Only know what he did when he came too close." From the sound of it, Riddick is leaning back against the hatch, not bothering to silence his movements. "Never bothered to stop for a friendly like drink, despite the bullshit going around." He isn't sure if he is grateful that Riddick can't tell him more about his son, or suspicious of the claim.  "Only thing I know: ya son cared about his record, and after I left a blade in his back the morphine." Rafe digs his fingers into the edges of the console, barely keeping himself from lashing out to stop the flow of words. "Should have let it go. 17 convicts brought in with no trouble, then he got my sheet..." When he turns around, even Riddick's eyes aren't visible in the gloom any longer. He's still there, Rafe can practically feel him in the narrow space, but he might as well be talking to a ghost. "All that mattered was his record and the credits—Not you, not anyone who got in the way: just his name and his credits." He's tempted to point out that by Riddick's own admission he didn't know his son, still knows fuck all about any of the family, but Rafe hasn't brought the convict along to pick a fight, or desecrate his family's sacred space.

"Give me a moment." He leans against the wall, imagines all of his ancestors at his back for good or ill and counts back from 1000 concentrating on the numbers and nothing else. Rafe especially doesn't think about the many times he talked himself out of dropping everything to track down his kid to drag him back home...how many chances he had to turn his boy around. Pressing his brow against the cool metal, he gives the Furyan his back. He half expects to feel a knife driven between his ribs, but there isn't even a whisper of movement. Eventually he forces himself to step up to the interface again, swiftly type all that he can remember about his boy into the system; filling in the blanks so someone in the future might find some guidance in his son's, and Rafe's own mistakes.

The hatch slamming shut without warning, makes him jump, but Rafe forces himself not to look. He keeps going: noting all the dirty details of his son's life, then continues with those from his own. His sight blurs, and Rafe has to wipe his face, deciding that it's sweat getting in his eyes, itching annoyingly on his cheeks. Eventually there is nothing left to say...except about his own situation, and that Rafe has no idea how to commit _that_  to the histories. Cursing Dahl for no other reason that he needs  _someone_  to blame for the mess, Rafe allowing himself the momentary luxury of blaming someone else for his choices before pulling himself together. Feeling drained, hollow and tired with nothing left to do, with no excuse to ignore Riddick any longer, Rafe stumbles out side and gets blinded by sunlight.

For long moments he only sees shapes, his pulse rising as his other senses strain to compensate trying to ascertain potential danger in his surroundings. All he can hear are the sounds of rustling grass and the cries of birds high in the skies coasting on the air currents formed by the multitudes of transports that move through the atmosphere, no indication that any one is around. When he can see again, the boots hanging over the side of the transport indicate otherwise. Riddick is sprawled out on the narrow back seat seemingly enjoying the sun, Rafe finds that he half expected the Furyan to be halfway across the cemetery already. Finding his convict...napping is more of a relief than he'd like.

"Done torturing yaself?" With the goggles on, it's practically impossible to read the younger man, for all Rafe knows he isn't even being looked at. He's gotten used to assuming that he's being watched .  The question doesn't help his state of mind any.  "Are you bored?" Snipes, grief and violence still too close under the surface under his skin. The killer stretches arching his body in a distinctly feline way, and even if the obnoxious grin wasn't accompanied by the raised eyebrow, Rafe would know he's being baited. His body aching with the need to let the rage and grief out, and he can't shake the impression that Riddick knows it. The tangle of impulses keeps him paralyzed looming over the killer while trying to get a tighter grip on his emotions.

"Riddick—" He tries, but sees it's useless before he even finishes speaking the name. Riddick doesn't give warning, but throws a punch instead, Rafe's ribs protesting as he twists away. He doesn't bother to say  anything more, hits back instead; if not fast certainly hard enough to make things interesting. Trading blows silently and efficiently, they leave the transport behind dancing around each other as they move  between crypts and stones, only grunts and sounds of impacts surrounding them. Rafe is sweaty, aching and half delirious with adrenaline when he finds himself pinning the younger man in the high grass behind the Johns mausoleum straddling Riddick's waist, his legs hooked over Riddick's to keep from getting a knee in the kidneys. "Better?" The Furyan grunts, unlike Rafe he's barely sweating, looking like he could go another round or ten and Rafe has to breathe through the urge to blacken the convict's eye properly.

That he's been set up, doesn’t really come as a surprise. "Something like that." He concedes ungraciously, sighing at the sight of the pleased grin that splits the younger man's face. Twisting his hands in Riddick's shirt, he yanks his convict up so they are nose to nose. "Not every problem can be resolved by fighting,— or fucking." He adds mildly, sitting back to catch his breath. Riddick shrugs falling back on his elbows, leaving Rafe trying to decide if he's being humored. Still, the young man doesn't object to Rafe keeping his perch not even making a token effort to throw him off as Rafe gets his breathing under control. "Worked so far, if no one's left ta make them: ain't no problems." 

"Interesting sentiment from someone who's been known to make a lot of effort to keep people alive." Pointing that out does get him bucked off to land in the thick grass. Despite the bruises their tussle has left him with, Rafe wonders why he's stopped playing this way? Used to be, it was a way for everyone to decompress, to bond, then all of them got serious and most of them got dead. Riddick sits up beside him, "Don't read too much into rumors, leave ya ass in a heartbeat if ya didn't keep up." Rafe doesn't believe him, but keeps his opinion to himself.

"I still have to check the maps." He'll be able to face the terminal again now the aches in his body reminding him that he's still alive, can still feel things other than grief, guilt and loss. Riddick gets up, fluidly rolling onto his knees and rising to loom over Rafe offering his hand. Briefly, Rafe is tempted to refuse the offer if only to assume himself of...he isn't even sure what. Clasping his convict's wrist he allows himself to be pulled up enjoying the feeling of hard muscle under his hand steadying him without even trying. Riddick doesn't make an effort to shake him off, doesn't give any indication that the touch is welcome, yet Rafe is left with the impression that his convict is pleased to be needed. He snorts at his own foolishness, reluctantly releasing his grip to unlock the hatch again. 

The cool darkness welcomes them back  the terminal still, it's screen glowing softly  waiting for Rafe's next command, for another piece of his life to be added. Refusing to think about the past any longer, he switches directories stepping aside making room for the younger man to get at the terminal. "Help yourself." He isn't surprised that a data drive appears from somewhere on Riddick's person, set on top of the terminal for Rafe's inspection while the young man pushes up his goggles, frowning in concentration as he flips through the available charts rapidly.

Rafe isn't particularly surprised that the older maps are the ones that catch the Furyan's interest, they don't contain a lot of information: the Johns clan never having been foolish enough to stick their noses into territory occupied by a race rumored to be nothing but savages. Still, the charts show borders and Rafe remembers imagining pictures of fantastic creatures just behind them with the notation 'there be dragons' next to them like on pictures of maps created when the human race was still planet bound on the Earth that Was. Only instead of dragons, there would have been Furyans. After a brief inspection, Rafe links the data drive so Riddick can copy the charts he wants then steps away to check on Mary's compartment. 

He traces her name with his fingers, wondering what she'd say if she saw him now, probably that he should get his head screwed on straight.


	11. Chapter 11

Somehow Rafe ends up in the kitchen again, this time with Dahl sitting at the small table peeling root vegetables as he does the actual cooking. The drive back had been peaceful in its own way: it hadn't been the smartest idea to let Riddick drive, but after he'd buckled in and closed his eyes all the sounds had blurred into one and he'd found himself waking up back in the garage with the younger man grinning and self satisfied playing with the old maps on a pad while waiting for Rafe to wake up. Without even a scratch on the transport Rafe decides to believe that he won't have to explain wrecking havoc on the traffic lanes to the guide authorities sometimes in the future.

Riddick had wandered off installing himself on the couch as soon as they were back in the apartment, still absorbed in the maps. Rafe, still feeling off kilter, had retreated to the kitchen to have a moment to himself. Having Dahl wander in, should have annoyed him, but he's gotten used to having her at his back silent and strong when he needs his back watched, and obnoxious as hell when he needs a kick in the ass.

"Where's your shield?" She finally asks, and Rafe looks down grabbing for it reflexively only to end up with a handful of air. He can't remember if it got ripped off in the scuffle, or if he still had it on the way back. Putting down the knife, he turns to look his second in command in the eyes. "Does it matter?"

"You've been attached to it for quite a long time, figured it meant something." She shrugs, having gone along with Rafe's hankering for the military style out of practicality and not conviction. Dahl would be just as happy dressing like a civilian, as long as he clothing didn't get in the way of her shooting. "It meant something, means something but—" He waves his head in the direction of the living room and it's occupant. "Kind of hard to have the high ground these days." She snorts, then giggles making Rafe feel old. "Sooo, what's the plan, Boss? Something tells me we're _not_ picking up another bounty any time soon—" He's relieved, that Dahl doesn't give the impression of minding all that much that there isn't going to be a decent time estimate for another payday. "I'm—not. You can take Luna and—"

"Ya blowing me off, Boss?" She growls, cutting him off mid offer.

"No sense for all of us to go off half cocked." He sighs, not that he would mind the company: he's always worked better with a team at his back. Only it isn't his place to offer, not his place to ask them along. Riddick might have made his peace with Rafe's decision to go with him, the rest of the crew tagging along might just be what sends the younger man running again. "And miss all the fun?" Before Rafe can stop her, Dahl is in the doorway yelling back towards the living room. "Oi! How come Boss is getting to have all the fun, convict?" He can't make out what's growled in reply, Dahl slaps the door controls on her way out leaving him alone in the kitchen.

Rafe strangles the childish urge to go over and listen at the door, telling himself that it's unnecessary considering the people involved. Unnervingly, it stays quiet all the way through him ladling the food into bowls. Food in hand Rafe finally risks opening the door half expecting to walk into a warzone. What he walks in on, is a game of dice. Riddick and Dahl sitting across from each other on the floor in front of the coffee table small heaps of matches signifying winnings, both look up with grim smiles and Rafe feels the urge to check his guns. "Ya girl cheats at dice." His convict grumbles with some admiration in his voice. "So do you." Rafe points out, and gets a shrug in return. "Aren't ya supposed to be the 'plays by the rules' types." Dahl answers with a disgusted snort while clearing a space for the food. "Boring." She sing songs, stealing the bowl the Furyan is about to reach for.

Luna shuffles in from the guest room alerted by the smell of food and gratefully accepts a bowl as well. Rafe admires the kid's survival instinct when he stays clear of the coffee table and instead chooses the chair that's just close enough to stay polite. Dropping on the couch with the last of the food he is only half surprised to see Riddick leaning back until his shoulder is digging into Rafe's knee. "Aaaw, aren't you cute!" Dahl coos while shoveling noodles into her mouth.

"Bitch." Is the cheerful answer, as the food disappears with alarming speed. For a while Luna watches them carefully from his perch, as if he expects a fight to break out but relaxes gradually as the exchange of insults doesn't escalate in anything worse than bits of food flying around until Rafe puts a stop to them. On the skiff everyone ate when they felt like it since eating together wasn't feasible with one person having to be on watch all the time. He hadn't thought anything of it when Luna chose to eat alone, now he wonders what kind of rules the kid had to live with on Santana's crew. Going hungry wouldn't be surprising, in a lot of crews newbies weren't treated particularly well not having earned the privilege yet. When Dahl catches him looking, she grimaces out of Luna's sight making Rafe curious what exactly the woman has discovered in the two days they were out.

Still, he doesn't seem too damaged and Rafe can make sure that even if the kid doesn't want to stay on with them, he ends up on a crew that will work him to the bone but not try to break him for the hell of it. "I'm going to HQ again in the morning, Luna you are coming along I want to show you the archives." He announces when most of the food is gone.

Luna nods sharply, looking determined, and Rafe decides to keep the kid if there is even the slightest chance of keeping him around they are taking him along. Even with the questionable companionship, Rafe still figures himself to be a better teacher than most in the field. The kid doesn't question why they are heading for the archives, but Rafe doesn't need him to question everything yet. "I'll go supervise the resupplying in the morning, see if we can't stuff some additional supplies somewhere so we won't have to bargain on some backwater that's going to try and rip us off." Dahl offers, frowning down at Riddick across from her. "Could probably smuggle your ass on as well." Before Rafe can wonder if getting Riddick onto the skiff early is such a good idea, the man himself shakes his head. "Nach, I'll join ya later. Have some business—" He doesn't qualify exactly what said 'business' is, and Rafe figures he doesn't want to know. Only his hand has a mind of its own, sliding down to wrap around the back of his convict's head; thumb pressing on the sweet spot where a knife could so easily be pushed into the brain. The sound Riddick makes isn't quite a purr, but it's close and everyone makes an effort to ignore the slip, even if Luna can't control his blush.

"Will we be able to return here after your _business_?" Rafe asks mildly, pleased that the younger man doesn't pull away or give any indication that the touch is anything less than appreciated. "Would I do that ta ya, Johns?" Riddick throws over his shoulder, far too close for comfort with the others present and watching. "Last time we had to bail your ass out!" Dahl butts in cheerfully.

"Yeah, cause ya don't listen." Not that he'd made much of an effort to actually outright tell them _why_ he's wanted off the uninhabited planet. He'd stayed lost on an ice planet for five years just to keep out of everyone's way after all before Toombs had managed to track him down, even Rafe had been looking in the wrong sector for a long time before the rumors had put him back on the right track. "Next time, I'm not letting Boss sweet talk me into getting your ass!"

"Dahl!" He'd been under the impression of _giving an order_ at the time, fare being fare considering Riddick had made it possible for them to escape...The raised brow he gets from the man himself that promises that Dahl's ridiculous claim will be remembered for a good long time. "You never let me have any fun, Boss!"

"I let you collect the bounty just now." He points out, "Speaking of which—"

"It's in the main account like always. They paid up just as promised." She smiles sweetly, right until Luna finally speaks up. "After Miss Dahl threatened to space the convict." That, Rafe reminds himself, is exactly why she's still his second instead of running her own crew: someone would get spaced sooner or later otherwise. "Did they blacklist you?"

"Only until we landed." She shrugs. " Then they changed their minds all of a sudden." Dahl adds and Rafe can hear a note of resentment in her tone. Still, they aren't blacklisted so that's something. He decides to stop by at the bank, add Luna to the people who have access to the crew fund...remove the rest of the former team. Looking down, he considers all the ways he could add Riddick as well, and decides against it. Adding an unknown to the crew could raise red flags, and might be the wrong incentive...

"Must've been pussies, ya didn't even break a nail." Riddick grins, and with a huff Dahl relents grinning back. "They were, had Luna kick their asses." And he'd thought to have raised her right. Riddick nods approvingly and Luna actually leans closer pushing the chair closer by an inch. It makes Rafe optimistic that they might not kill each other while awake and stuck in the skiff for weeks. 

The dice reappear as bowls are cleared off and Luna is dragged into the game, his protests about the gambling being against his religion getting ignored since it's only 'favors' they are betting. Leaving them to it, still somewhat melancholy after their outing Rafe retreats to the bedroom to check his messages, brood and eventually fall asleep with the data pad still on his chest.

The bed shifting, half wakes him sometime later, silver eyes glowing in the darkness as the pad is pulled out of his hands and deposited somewhere. "So who's going to be scrubbing the latrine the whole trip?" Riddick laughs almost invisible but warm and familiar enough that Rafe can't resist reaching for the him. "Luna unless the boy learns to cheat like the rest."

"I don't cheat." Rafe points out virtuously, enjoying their bodies slotting together.

"Sure ya don't. Must've been someone else Dahl learned it from." He'd taught Billy as well before letting him go off into the service. Still, baiting his convict is fun and unlike some others, Riddick knows when not to believe him. No matter his own opinion on the subject, he'd taught his kids all the survival skills he could think off. "Keeping the kid?"

"Yes. God only knows where he'd end up otherwise." The body against him relaxes minutely leaving Rafe to wonder if Riddick was actually worried.

"Not a lot of _decent_ mercs around." The younger man states, his hand reaching for the scar he left on Rafe's chest almost like he's looking for assurance. "Turn stupid kids who don't know better into killers, get them killed." Rafe hasn't found any evidence of Riddick ever staying anywhere inhabited long enough to have fathered a child, and yet he sounds almost...paternal.

"Did you know someone?" He asks before the silence can get oppressive, curious to know more about the unexpected side of the killer. "Kid—a long time ago. Wanted to keep her safe, had a preacher taking care of her, she—took up with mercs thinking they'd train her, ended up in the slam for it, ghosted in the end. Stupid kid thought she wanted be a killer." 'Could be me', Rafe hears without Riddick saying a word.

"Kids..." Rafe sighs, stilling the hand on his chest.  


	12. Chapter 12

Alone once again, Rafe leans against the wall with a sigh , not surprised when Riddick crowds in : rough hands sliding under Rafe's shirt. The touch more grounding than arousing, and one that Rafe realizes he's missed for longer than he cares to think about. As much of an entertaining distraction screwing in the cargo hold might be, he's overtaken with the urge to drag his convict back to their bunk where he can indulge in simple touch as much as he wants. Riddick licks into his mouth, but the urgency isn't there any longer and the young man allows himself to be lead out of the cargo hold when Rafe pulls him along, back to  _their_  bunk, Rafe making sure to secure the lock.

Riddick takes the manhandling with surprising ease, leaving Rafe suspecting that he's being humored. Not that he cares as long as he's allowed to strip the clothing off the powerful body, push it down onto the narrow bed and get dragged down as well. Riddick only struggles against him to get Rafe naked, until they are plastered together, wrapped around each other...simply  _touching_.  Somehow they never get around to actually fucking, Rafe finds himself getting used as a pillow by a killer: trailing his fingers up and down the younger man's spine stares up at the ceiling.

He's being trusted, Rafe marvels for what seems to be the hundred's time, pulling the younger man close as Riddick twitches in his sleep. The killer usually barely moves: a habit most likely developed as a safety measure during the years on the run and in slams. To feel him twitching in his sleep like a dog, is a new development that turns dangerous when Rafe's hand is grabbed as he reaches out to soothe. Riddick reacts without opening his eyes, pins him to the bed with a grip hard enough to bruise still in the grip of the dream thatmakes him restless. All Rafe can do, is relax his body and hope that the other will wake up before he does something everyone is going to regret.

Briefly he considers calling out, getting Dahl's attention, but the bunk is locked and considering how well the tranquilizer darts worked _last time_...anything Dahl would be able to do safe  of killing Riddick, would come too late anyway.  Rafe huffs in annoyance, and the younger man twitches moving down to scent along Rafe's throat with a low growl his eyes still closed  and moving around behind his eyelids. Rafe half expects to feel teeth ripping out his throat, but all that hits his skin is hot breath and a thick tongue leaving wet trails across his skin. Rafe risks reaching out, wrapping his arms around the killer's neck petting him until the younger man slumps back into dead sleep. He's left to wonder what can give a man like Riddick nightmares: not the lives he's taken, nor the creatures he's encountered, but something has make him restless and Rafe is curious if Riddick will divulge whatever it is. 

The killer wakes up in a mood, and Rafe finds himself braced against the wall with all his might as Riddick fucks him: brutal thrusts that drive against the spot that sends sparks up Rafe's spine. Riddick's hands leave bruises on his hips, bruises on his shoulders, the mating all but silent only grunts, pants and flesh slapping against flesh echoing across the small space. Rafe should object, but his body welcomes the attention: his dick dripping and twitching  eager for release enjoying the manhandling. Orgasm is accompanied by teeth in the crook of his neck, and the killer plastered along his back. No explanation is given, Riddick slinking off to do weapons maintenance, and Rafe goes to relieve Dahl in the cockpit. Watching the stars he wonders what they are going to find once they hit the dirtball Riddick grew up on. The Cortex tells him that the orphanage is still there, still taking in children of lost spacers and refugees, living from one donation to the other getting by as well as they can.

Rafe has never had the 'pleasure' of visiting one of those places, could live his life without seeing the conditions in which those children grew up. The records available over the Cortex are scratchy at best, some administrations having kept them up better than others. Some more searching nets him several pictures taken over the years giving him opportunity to examine the scruffy kids looking earnestly at the camera. He's almost given up, when he spots a boy in the background of one of the holos: all ears and elbows, surprisingly rangy, almost skinny scowling at the camera as if considering attacking whomever had been handling it, but what draws Rafe's attention particularly are _the eyes_. Dark eyes glaring at the camera instead of silver that Rafe assumed is what a Furyan normally has. Enlarging the picture, Rafe stares at the scowling face resisting the urge to trace the jaw with a finger. 

The eyes make him take another look at the file he has on the killer, for once curious about the notes others have left behind about the man. No one make any notes about the eyes in the early years: seems whatever caused them to change happened when Riddick was already on the run. " What ya got there?" He isn't sure if he'll ever get used to how silent his convict can be. "You had brown eyes." Rafe blurts, turning his head to compare the child to the man. Riddick frown, twisting around the chair to get a better look at the picture, Rafe bites down on a smile as he watches the mirrored scowl separated by thirty odd years. "That me?" The killer questions questions, studying the image closely. "Looks like it,—there are no tags except for the orphanage name and a year." 

"Shit, can't even remember being this—" Riddick doesn't say 'weak', but Rafe hears it, 'helpless' may have applied as well, 'young' certainly. Riddick before he became 'The Riddick'...hard to believe the killer was ever a child. "What do you remember?" Rafe prods curious what the younger man remembers.

"Was alright, then it wasn't. Money ran out or summething. Remember going hungry—they promised three meals a day if ya enlisted, didn't mention everything else they'd feed ya." He doesn't seem too angry at the memory, and considering how much they'd taught him, Riddick might not be. Keeping in mind what the kid in the picture grew up into, there isn't much to feel sorry for, still Rafe's hand blindly creeps up Riddick's shoulder fingers digging into muscle, offering his strength. Riddick twitches, but settles down poking at the screen to view the other holos Rafe has found. He hesitates only at the last one, an old woman among the children looking on. "Do you remember her?"

"Maybe, doubt she's still alive." Rafe figures Riddick is probably right, still there is always hope: people change in strange ways out in the black, ways no one expected longevity is the standard on a lot of planets for the ones who settle on them. Not a privilege spacers can enjoy, though spending time in cryo helps, but it could work out to their advantage. "We'll see—" It's all they can do at the moment.

"Do you remember your dreams?" He asks after a mo ment of staring into space.

Meanwhile, the younger man settles in the pilot seat, producing the data crystal Rafe made for him and feeding him into the slot to put it up on the display. "Don't dream." Riddick answers absentmindedly, frowning down at the first of the maps that show up on the screen. Rafe recognized bits and pieces flashing by, planet after planet all over the sector until he settles on Helios.

"Never?" As far as Rafe knows, never dreaming doesn't happen. People go crazy without the brain getting time to rest, without REM sleep. "You've been in cryo." Rafe isn't a fan, but cryo is necessary considering the distances some of their targets manage to run hoping to get away from their crimes. "Yeah, spend the time listening to the black, lots of noise when everyone is sleeping." The meaning behind the words makes Rafe sit up in shock. "You stayed awake!" He concludes in shock only for Riddick to shake his head. "Wasn't awake, wasn't sleeping either, not—completely." The convict frowns looking for the words to explain what he means probably as Rafe waits curiously for further explanation. He's never hear d of anyone who was able to stay even partly conscious during cryogenic suspension. During his days in the army he's heard mess talk about tests the geek squads were doing trying to breed soldiers who'd be able to do that among other things, he'd never paid much attention to them not really seeing the point. "Ain't awake, ain't asleep—animal instinct  maybe , lying in wait—" A flash of fang, something of a challenge as Riddick leans over watching for a reaction. Rafe shoves him back before things can escalate, his body a bit too appreciative of the danger the predator beside him represents. Maybe it's pheromones? He wonders unable to remember this constant  _need_  dogging him even in his twenties when sex had been a top priority. Even Mary hadn't inspired this kind of need, but then he hadn't exactly spend a lot of time with his wife between duty and responsibilities. As much as they'd loved each other, neither had ever felt the urge to follow the other, or to stay...Shaking off the comparison, Rafe concentrates on the practical issues. "What if cryo turns out to be necessary?"

The younger man shrugs. "Done me no harm before, just boring as fuck." Unable to move a muscle, to wake up properly as long as the chemicals are in his system, Rafe isn't sure he'd be able to stand it. For someone who'd experienced that several times, Riddick is surprisingly sane.

"And you know this how?" Rafe's pretty sure no one who could actually _reach_ that conclusion scientifically had ever had their hands on the Furyan. 

"Still alive ain't I?" Rafe is tempted to kick him for the slowly enunciated words. Refusing to rise to the bail, he turns to the Cortex, scanning for news from the passing planets, eventually settling on Guild files pushed from the small local bases to every ship beacon with the merc tag. Lots of potential business on the way, if they have to stay longer no one will need to go hungry as long as they take the occasional week or so to track down a bounty or two. Rafe doubts that any of the marks could hide for more than a day from him, and with Riddick along maybe not even that if the killer decides to lend them a hand.

Marking his interest in a couple of the better paying ones , the dangerous ones who have been out for a while and no other crew has managed to bag yet despite tagging them. "Planning on fun?" 

"Planning on  _not_  running out of credits. We can't go around 'borrowing' equipment." They could, some did, and chances are he'd be the only one to really object to repurposing equipment, but Rafe figures they need to keep  _some_  standards.

"Whatever ya want." The words sound _filthy_ to Rafe, even if they aren't meant that way. 

"Tell me what you think of the maps?" He tries to distract them both before they end up doing embarrassing like asking for a blowjob while on watch.


	13. Chapter 13

The dust ball of a moon barely has any security or air/space control when they arrive. After landing, splitting up seems the most efficient option: Dahl and Luna go for supplies, while Rafe and Riddick headed for the administrative centers to see what they can dig up there. Rafeis briefly tempted to leave his convict to wait on the skiff: the killer's nightmares having steadily grown worse the closer they got to the moon. He'd been forced to wake Riddick violently several times when the younger man had gotten too restless , and Rafe feared he'd try to leave the bunk . Questions regarding the nature of the nightmares  have stayed  unanswered, but Rafe has started to develop a suspicion that Riddick knew the cause for his behavior. 

The killer had gotten quieter, setting Rafe on edge: waiting for the explosion, experience telling him it will come sooner or later. All he can do is hope  that whatever is eventually unleashed will not be directed towards him or his people directly. Hating himself for being a  suspicious bastard, Rafe keeps a close eye on his killer torn between wanting to help, and limit _any _ collateral damage. Unfortunately, as long as Riddick isn't talking, Rafe can't do anything about the situation safe what he's already doing: keeping watch and staying near in case his convict decides to share.

The administrative center is small and shabby. Once upon a time it may have been a luxurious mansion, but time and weather had transformed it into something that can best be described as a concrete box. Security is lax: no one even requests  ID's, not even when Rafe asks for access to the off - Cortex records, which turn out to be stashed in a damp smelling attic . The clerk who escorts them up tries to ask what they are looking for either trying to be helpful looking for a reward or snooping, but one growl from Riddick and he goes scurrying away as soon as he done unlocking.

Left alone they are faced with boxes full of flimsies going back years, barely in any kind of order make Rafe's head ache even before they've started. Riddick snoops shamelessly, flipping lids off random boxes as soon as the doors are closed, pulling documents for a quick read before moving on. Only the shelves are labeled, so Rafe squints at the sloppily written dates and departments. He carefully ignores Riddick going through random boxes for a while longer before settling for digging through a specific one. Neither of them needing the distraction of a discussion about the killer's  _multiple_  hidden talents for the moment. It takes an hour or so, for them to localize the orphanage records, and figure out how to work backwards through the random seeming mess trying not to choke on all the dust the digging around raises.

There  _had_ been a steady stream of refugee kids getting accepted into the orphanage around the time Riddick ended up on the moon, proof that Rafe's theories may be sound. Lots of females, of the few males several had grievous injuries consistent with Riddick's claim the Necromongers had primarily targeted male Furyans. Most of the possibly Furyan children had been taken from the orphanage several years later by anonymous benefactors. Rafe hopes to hell that it had been by survivors of the massacre _not _ pragmatists figuring on cashing in since no one would come looking for the children.

No mention of Riddick among the files.

Rafe's almost ready to give up, when on impulse he checks the files of children designated 'local' and finds one of a male child _found by a member of the militia i_ _ n a garbage container _ after a raid on the planet while the Necromongers were still in the area: a _male_ child: the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. No name, no DNA on record (but that was uncommon then), no way to return him to anyone: so he'd ended up at the orphanage as well, because despite the exposure and hunger the child had lived.  No clue where the name came from, if it was anything but randomly, chosen the file didn't mention it...but it did have a  _date_.

"Find the port records, they must be around here somewhere." Rafe orders, jotting down the interval they need, passing it over to Riddick who is already at his shoulder. "You were lucky." He adds, considering the odds the child Riddick had been needed to beat from the moment it drew breath. "That's one opinion." The Furyan shrugs, skimming the file over Rafe's shoulder then checking several boxes a few shelves over. He turns his back to Rafe, that could be a coincidence, but for a predator who prefers to have all other occupants of a room in his line of sight, somewhat odd. The young man works fast, his eyes giving him an advantage over Rafe in the dim room as he practically rips through the 'papers'.

Rafe busies himself with putting the discarded documents back into their boxes, and shuffling the contents of random shelves to hide which records they had been interested in. The only file he keeps is Riddick's, Rafe takes it, and several random others from the same year out of the box to keep whomever checks guessing. Not that the chance is all too big, but the clerk might just be bored enough to have a look after they have left.

"Three ships—, no named affiliation, in orbit round that time. One got permission ta come dirt site for 'medical issues'," Riddick reads out, passing the flimsies over his shoulder to Rafe to read over as well. 'Medical issues' could be anything and everything, as long as the victim couldn't survive without assistance that couldn't be provided by a ship's medbay, most planets were decent enough to at least send shuttles for the victims if they didn't allow the ships themselves make landfall. There was only one reason to grant landing rights based on medical issues that was universally respected: pregnant women had no place on ships, and if they didn't have a choice but to travel,  _babies did not get born in space if landfall was possible_. Landing rights would have been granted without a second thought to any ship with a woman in labor on board.

"A planet hopper couldn't have come from far." Rafe notes: no clear origin coordinates, notes from port control that the crew had been unwilling to answer questions.

"No records of them taking off again." A couple of more boxes examined, and Riddick's hand is on Rafe's ribs grabbing for his comm while Rafe is trying to read. As innocent as the touch is, Rafe still gets momentarily distracted, only half listening while Riddick calls out. "Dahl?"

"Need something, hot shot?" She answers, as soon as the signal gets through.

"Ya home?" 'No records of the ship leaving', idly Rafe imagines finding the crew members somewhere in the moon's Outback where they have settled to keep their heads down.

"Yeah, just came back with the goods. Might have to go hunting after all, prices here are steep." She sounds offended, but then Dahl never did have the patience to negotiate with the merchants.

"Punch inta the Cortex." Riddick orders, warm and solid against Rafe's side as Rafe fights to squeeze every last drop of potentially information from the flimsies. "What am I looking for?" 

"Raids—," Rafe reads the dates out for Dahl to punch in, Rafe can feel tension rolling off the younger man  as they wait.

"Huh," Sounds through the speaker, and Rafe gives up on the content of the flimsy completely. "What does that mean, lieutenant?" He questions, wondering if this is where they hit a head end barely having started.

"Two raids, one on the date Killer just passed on, and one a few days later. Heavy losses—almost exclusively on  _civilian _ targets. They didn't even bother with the mines, or warehouses." 

"Necromongers?" Riddick growls urgently.

"Doesn't say—," Before Riddick can make any more demands, Rafe takes the comm out of his hand, step ping  back to put some air between them. "It wouldn't. Half the universe doesn't believe they exist _now_ , never mind 30 years ago. Is there any footage to compare to recent sightings?" 

They both listen to the sounds of keys getting pressed and half swallowed curses and Dahl works. If someone had gotten lucky and there  _is_  footage...They could access the Cortex from a public terminal, but who knows what kind of attention that might bring down. At least with the Guild encryption, the ship is relatively safe, and otherwise he has several marks saves up who's last location had been Helios where attack by Necromongers was confirmed for once. "Damn they are fast! Would love to get my hands on one of those fliers!" 

"They shit long distance, death squads mostly not reason ta soak ya panties." The young man sneers over Rafe's shoulder, grins annoyingly when Rafe glares.

"How would you know?" Dahl snipes over the comm, "I've seen a list of  wrecks you stole over the years to get around!" He  knows they are gearing up to another one of their mock fights while Rafe feels his patience running out.

" _Children_!" He interrupts, and gets a mutinous look for his trouble. "Do you have a  contour?"

Dahl doesn't answer for several minutes, probably sticking out her tongue at the comm. "Yeah, profiles match 75%, not odds I'd take a bet on—"  She finally answers.

"They got around in 30 years, might've stolen enough shit ta gear up—" Dahl breaks in before Riddick can finish, "The flight style is pretty much the same —," There is still hesitation in her tone, and if a sniper isn't willing to commit...Someone, probably Luna, says something just out of comm range that has Dahl grunting in agreement. "Boss, Luna is going to run a print over to you, faster than having the computer guess."

"We're still in the archives." Rafe protests, but figures it's probably useless. Besides, they might have to visit space/air command and going back to the skiff would have them going around in circles.

"We done anyway, kid can wait outside." Riddick shrugs, stepping away to fix the remaining  boxes. 

"There might be more—," Rafe protests weakly, with so many boxes around them, who knows what might be missing there.

"Can't be anything good." The killer shrugs shoving  the relevant flimsies under his shirt. Rafe grimaces at the sight, doesn't bother to warn Riddick pulling his shirt up to take the flimsies back, rolling them carefully and snapping them to his belt. A raised eyebrow tells him how impressed the younger man is with Rafe's method of subterfuge, but he doesn't comment, just waves at the door allowing Rafe ahead of him.

No guarantee they've guessed the right ship, could be that they’ll have to come back and start the search again if the Cortex or space control still have the last couple of beacons the ship that landed used on record. Small chance of that, but they didn't exactly have a lot of options. The clerk is lounging against the wall looking bored out of his mind, but jumps up and straightens himself out as soon as he spots Rafe heading his way. He doesn't bother to acknowledge the paper pusher more than necessary for politeness sake,  stalking out into the rapidly cooling air to look around for Luna.

Riddick is the one to spot the kid, nudging at Rafe's shoulder changing their trajectory to intercept Luna before he reaches the mansion. Luna is panting, having run most of the way from the port as if they couldn't have waited a few more minutes considering they are chasing  a 30 year old trail. Might have been less conspicuous as well, Rafe can see a couple of enforcers who'd been having lunch on the patio of a nearby cantina looking up with interest. If they are searched...the Guild would get him out of course, he's too valuable to them to be rotting in some backwater minimal security slam just for stealing a couple of documents, but with Riddick at his side things could get bloody...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could be last chapter in a while due to internet drama  
> on the bright side, multiple chapters might get posted when I'm finally online again :) since I'm figuring it's going to take a while.


	14. Chapter 14

"Sir!" Luna is thankfully smart enough not to go for the print immediately. He stops with a weird gesture that might have been a salute once upon a time, or might be youthful exuberance. Luna, Rafe now knew, only has the arms training Santana gave him along with everything Dahl and Riddick managed to drill into him since Rafe has taken him in. But the kid has the instincts of a serf: knows how to keep his head down and disappear into the woodwork to keep out of trouble, has decent instincts for trouble that will get even better with experience. "Here's the new battery, sir." The boy offers, taking the energy pack out of his side pouch so Rafe can exchange it with the one in his radio. "Thanks, son." He ignores the boy practically seems to beam at the moniker, and the amusement that radiates from Riddick at the scene. "Since you're here, you might as well come along. Could be we'll need an extra pair of hands."  

"Yes, sir." He glances from Rafe to Riddick and back several times, before settling on taking position at Rafe's hand on his holster. With a snort, and a knock into Rafe's shoulder Riddick breaks the formation, setting off down out of the square and into better cover.  

Rafe isn't surprised when he's lead to what looks like the shadiest bar the planet has, his convict's instinct for finding trouble becoming less of a surprise every day. The take a table in the corner making sure to keep Luna between them after the kid gets more than one interested look and starts getting twitchy. 

"Hand it over." The shot is too dark and blurry for Rafe to make out properly, asking for another lamp along with their beers would be suspicious so he resigns himself to trusting Riddick's judgment. Turning away from the rest of the room, the Furyan pushes his goggle up to get a better look. He traces the outline of the biggest blur several times before donning the goggles again and stashing the print in a pocket. "Could be Necro." He grunts into what passes for a beer in the bar. 

"Only 'could be'?" Rafe frowns, and gets a shrug in return. He squints at the killer who seems to be miles away, looking all of a sudden like the whole endeavor doesn't interest him one single iota. It almost pisses Rafe off enough to give the Furyan a tongue lashing from hell, only to look closer at the seemingly relaxed convict. To keep from blurting his suspicions, Rafe drowns them in his beer instead, cursing their need to rely on a messenger. "We'll work with 'could be' then." He decides,  "Next stop then." Doesn't get a response, but figures as long as no one is protesting they can keep going. The bruise on his ribs aches, a reminder that he shouldn't…Rafe isn't sure what he isn't supposed to leave off by now. He hasn't bothered mentioning this one, with Riddick in a mood already adding guilt to the mix wouldn't accomplish anything. 

"Come on, we're wasting daylight." Luna takes his place at Rafe's back again as soon as they are out on the street. Riddick prowls ahead along the street, weaving in and out of the alleys they pass before returning to Rafe's side looking moody. Rafe'd love to ask if any of the streets are familiar, if Riddick still remembers the way, but as with everything else he keeps the questions to himself. 

Finding the orphanage is almost anticlimactic. The building is neat, if shabby, and there are kids playing in a fenced off area. Nothing one would expect when thinking of an institution that let something like Riddick loose upon the universe. The kids stop when they pass the gate, watching them wearily from a distance the older ones already evaluating the chances of them being slavers, or worse.  

The younger kids are still mostly oblivious to their situation, they ignore the silent warnings of their older brothers and sisters and keep on playing. A ball flies through the invisible barrier a child of unclear gender chasing after it, skidding to a halt abruptly when Riddick makes a grab for the toy. Luna starts to say something, but Rafe nudges him into silence, curious to see how things are going to play out. The killer crouches down, offering the ball in his outstretched hand, pulls the goggles up to show the kids his eyes. He doesn't move when the kid darts forward to snatch the ball, retreating at once into the safety of the group. Rafe can almost imagine a similar scene decades earlier, almost because it's hard to imagine Riddick as anything else but what he is now. 

There are notches in the metal by the main door: rusted by weather and barely visible sanded away by the storms. It's hard to miss the killer's fingers across one of what look like hundreds of anonymous notches as he pushes through the door. From the corner of his eye, Rafe sees some of the kids relax a little at the gesture.  

The caretakers are visibly less than pleased with their presence, but they are polite when Rafe starts asking questions. Rickety chairs are brought out for them to wait while the current matron looks through the few sketchy records they have.  

"Richard?" Rafe almost ignores the call, assuming one of the kids milling around is being called, when Riddick goes still next to him. There has always been a first name on all the warrant sheets—only it never seemed to fit the killer, who slinks out of the chair padding over to an ancient looking woman squinting at him disapprovingly from the doorway. 

"Ma'am." The transformation is fascinating, and if Rafe didn't have to listen closely to keep the caretakers talking, he'd be gaping at the change in the Furyan who actually seems to be a bit nervous. Luna, not having Rafe's problem, doesn't refrain from gaping. 

"Come to visit have you?" She demands, examining the man towering over her. "Will wonder never cease, and in respectable company no less." He bites his cheek to swallow a grin at Riddick's rapidly hidden look of displeasure. "Now tell me where you've been, boy." A withered, claw like hand clamps down on the convict's arm to pull him along towards the front door. 

"Don't worry, Martha isn't as fast with her cane as he was in her youth, he might be able to duck."  The woman Rafe's been talking to reassures him, relaxing for the first time since they'd entered. 

"She seemed to know him." He hadn't expected to encounter anyone who'd known Riddick as a child for some reason.  

"She probably does, she's been here almost since the very beginning when this orphanage was just a few people trying to keep the colony strays of the streets."  

"Was that before refugees started coming?"  

"I think so. You really should ask her, if anyone has the information you're looking for—" He thanks the woman, "I can give you all the files we have on that period, maybe you will able to find something. Record keeping, has never really been what we are here for I am afraid."  

"You are doing good work." He assures the woman, and the eavesdroppers he can hear behind him, finishes his coffee talking about sponsoring and the chances the kids may or may not have as orphans on a backwater planet. The front yard is empty when he goes out again, Luna trailing like an obedient puppy. Sheer look has him deciding to take a turn around the building, to find the lot gathered on benches at the back of the building. 

The old woman, Martha, is sitting on a bench in the shade of a tree with the smaller kids and one amused convict at her feet. The older kid mill around trying to look like they aren't listening to the conversation and aren't curious about the visitor. When Riddick catches sight of them, Rafe swallows a smirk at the sight of the glare that promises bloody retribution for any comments made regarding the situation. Before he can get a taunt out, Martha flicks the killer's ear, "Don't scare the boy, Richard, he's done nothing to deserve it." Rafe wonders when the last time was that someone as unintimidated by the Furyan as little old woman is now. Riddick just huffs, and the children laugh when his ear is flicked again. 

"Ma'am, I was hoping to ask you a few questions." He flashes her his most disarming smile, the one he usually saves for extremely rich customers, and the bench is petted in invitation. "I bet the same questions _Richard_ here was asking." Rafe nods wondering what information Riddick has already gotten. "I'll tell you what I told him: there were Furyans in this region, trading, looking for work. Not a friendly people, but they looked after their own until they couldn't."   
"Timeline matches up, they got refugees here." Riddick grumbles catching one of the more daring kids by the wrist when she tries for one of his blades. "Didn't do them any good." He bares his teeth, but the kid must have seen worse because she only laughs pulling free and running back to her friends. "They did not live as a people, but that doesn't mean they died, does it?" Martha sighs. "There have always been rumors that the planet might have died—but the people—"  

"They lived didn't they?" Rafe questions carefully, not looking down at Riddick who's gone still, fingers digging into the dirt. "Survived is perhaps a better word. You think now is hard times?" She gestures at the kids, "they weren't welcomed. The ones who didn't die, they left." From the tone of the narrative, Rafe is pretty sure he'd been lucky to spend most of his life on the richer planets instead of fighting for survival on a dust ball. "Some did come back, but by then it was too late." The woman laments absentmindedly, "Someone came back?" Rafe asks, not sure if he's heard her right. 

"Looking for the children of course." She reaches out, and Riddick leans in to the touch allowing her to rub his cheek. "The Necromongers, they were sloppy, didn't look too hard. Children were hidden all over: some babies survived, the ones who kept quiet. The adults—" She shakes her head, and Rafe can guess what she doesn't want to say. He has to wonder how she survived, how most of the people on the planet survived? Necromongers aren't known for their mercy—"Many different people came for the children, we kept them as safe as we could." Martha's hand trembles on Riddick's jaw. "When your people came back—it had been such a long time, most of the children didn't remember. You didn't remember, Richard." Rafe is already reaching for the killer before he's done processing what the woman said, wrapping his hands around Riddick's shoulders; digging his thumbs in to tight muscle, half wondering if he shouldn't—his gut tells Rafe that he should hold on. 

The convict huffs loudly, scratches harder at the dirt—and leans back into Rafe's hands and for the first time Rafe feels a tremble run down the powerful body. "When?" Riddick's strangled growl sends the children scurrying for cover, all of a sudden realizing that their new friend might not be as much fun as they thought. "When?" He grates, and Rafe digs his fingers in sure that if he let's go... 

"You must have been twelve, no more, when they came. They could smell which of the children belonged to them. Scared the crap out of the smaller ones—," Martha shakes her head, "you ran. No idea where you went, even they couldn't find you and believe me: they looked. Eventually they took the kids and left, took you a month to come back after that." Rafe wonders what had made Riddick run and hide, if that hadn't been the link in a chain of events that lead the Furyan to—his hand wraps around the younger man's throat pulling him back until Riddick slumps against his knee. "Did they say where they were going?" He demands: if whomever it was came back, the children must have been wanted. "They—they said he'd know." Martha tells him defensively, the note forces Rafe to take stock of the situation. He's on high alert, barking orders instead of asking; interrogating a little old lady. 

"Did they take everyone else?" He asks keeping his tone carefully neutral. 

"Everyone they could find, some of the children had already been adopted." Rafe feels some of the tension leaving the killer's body, feels the muscles under his hands relax minutely. Riddick hadn't been the only one to be left behind—at least that's a comfort.


End file.
